


Heartache

by Zenobia1



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ain't that just the truth, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But it's not supposed to be there, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Frisk (Undertale), Frisk (Undertale) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Frisk has magic, Frisk shuts him out, Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Malnourishment TW, Medical Experiments, Medical Procedures, Overusing magic, Parent Toriel (Undertale), Parent W. D. Gaster, Sans tries to be a good friend, Sedation, Seizures, Sleep Deprived Frisk, Suicide Attempt, and in pain, frisk is suffering, refusing to eat, something is brewing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenobia1/pseuds/Zenobia1
Summary: What happens if your SOUL starts to malfunction?Frisk begins to manifest magic, but it hasn't been seen in humans for a millennia. It slowly starts to kill her instead....Warning for referencing suicide and medical experiments
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **please be warned there's implied suicide attempts here**  
> Hey! So this has been something on my mind for a while, I'm probably gonna get a few chapters out of this...I hope you enjoy!! :D

One year. One-year Frisk had been living on the surface with Toriel; with Sans, Papyrus and Gaster having also moved not too far down the road.

Two years for everyone else.

That _did_ mean that the entire underground was now derelict and abandoned and doesn’t bare thinking about. Maybe someday it will become populated again—what if humans lived down there?

_That would be a weird turn of events._

Forcing an end to her daydreaming, a vicious gust of wind assaulted Frisk’s small frame; the barren streets of New Town impossible to navigate in these conditions. Everyone else had the right idea – stay home, don’t go outside, the storm passing over the city was dangerous to be out in.

But Frisk was _Frisk_. What’s danger? She had fought a sentient murderous flower mutation and lived to tell the tale.

Said flower then grew so frustrated with his ‘unfair’ punishment that he manipulated his way into the child’s soul in an attempt to take over the body. And when that didn’t work, he tried it with Papyrus. And then Sans.

Who was left behind to pick up the pieces? Gaster. Who was the only person Frisk had a slight bad feeling about in the first place? … _Gaster_. Frisk was pretty sure the man had the power to disintegrate someone just by staring at them long enough. A _storm_ was nothing.

_I’m rambling,_ she shivered as another icy blast of air bit her skin.

None of that mattered anymore. They were back on the surface and surrounded by friends instead of hiding away underground. There was no point living in the past.

They were safe now.

_Well._

As safe as you could _get_ with a storm sitting on top of you.

Right now there was one goal in mind: _Go to Grillbys, get a hamburger for the skelebros._ Since it had been one year since the ‘family’ moved to the surface at the same time, she thought… _why not treat them?_

_What would mom want…?_

A box of snails…?

A sack of garden soil…?

_I really don’t want to go digging for snails…maybe I can find a dog to do that for me…_

Where do they even live now, anyway—

“Hey, kid! The hell are you doing out here?” a fox-looking creature called from the distance—the back of Grillbys. Squinting, you could just make out their brown ears and piercing black eyes.

Frisk continued to push on, attempting to make eye contact despite the fierce whooshing of wind matting brown hair against her face.

“I need to get some food, can you help me?” she called across the storm, eyes narrowed with a hand above her face.

“Well come on, quickly, quickly!” the fox- _thing_ ushered her inside, urging Frisk to walk faster, until she broke into a sprint.

The restaurant doors slammed shut, along with the harsh wind that left her hair strands unceremoniously sticking out of place. The crisp smell of alcohol mixed with burning logs invaded her senses, something she still hadn’t gotten used to since being on the surface. Many humans liked alcohol, after all. She knew that much. The fox-creature apparently decided it would play a disappearing act as suddenly he was gone again. He probably didn’t even work here.

Golden red light shone from the luminous poster display, perfectly complimenting their fire elemental bartender who caught a glimpse of her arrival rather quickly.

“What on earth are you doing?” he demanded, still drying a plate when he came striding over, “You should be at home!”

The lightness in her chest faded from the scolding. “I just…wanted to get something for the skele family. I didn’t know what else to do and I couldn’t do nothing…”

Tall irate flames flickered for a moment before dwindling a touch, thoughtful and considering her words.

“Ah. It’s been a year, I’d forgotten. It goes by fast, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help the smile pulling at her lips, “Yeah. It’s so much better though.”

“ _You’ve_ grown a lot. You talk more. I’m proud.”

Reddening, Frisk sheepishly took a step back, “It’s-it’s nothing, haha!” then she added with a grin, “You do way more than me!”

“Heh heh. I just have more to do up here. More people to keep happy. But it pays.”

It certainly _should_ do, what with all the new customers—potentially hundreds or thousands pass through here every month. New Town was populated densely with monsters in comparison to humans and it was becoming a sort of tourist attraction. Though probably not for the right reasons.

“What can I get you? Food, right? I’ll cook you up something real quick here,” the elemental turned his back and made his way back to the kitchen—Frisk jogged hurriedly after him.

“Wait! You forgot the gold!”

There was a low chuckle from the monster in front of her, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house.”

“W-what?” Frisk blinked rapidly, “Free?”

Grillby always gave Sans his grub for free— _well,_ everything went on his ‘tab’ that hadn’t been paid for the past seven years so _technically_ it was always on the house, but—never Frisk. Not until today.

“Call it a present from me—I know how Sans likes his burgers.” His flame flickered zealously as he continued to stroll away, leaving a stunned Frisk behind.

_Such a nice monster!_

**..............**

A better part of an hour later and Frisk was stuffing the boxes of warm burgers into plastic bags, wrapping up the foodstuffs into a knot and swinging it over her shoulder.

“Thanks again!” Frisk called as she headed towards the door, ready to embrace the storm again as soon as the door creaked open.

With one hand on the doorknob, she pulled. And so did her SOUL.

Frisk winced and clutched the hem of her shirt with a high-pitched shriek, blowing out a breath at the extreme amount of static that had apparently built up on the metal.

She almost didn’t notice the twisted bags were no longer in her hands, tiny fingers gripping tightly to her jumper—until the sensation faded.

_Sigh._

“Hey, you okay?”

She jumped, not expecting the man to be in front of her. “Yeah. It's fine."

“Fine?” Grillby frowned, “That didn’t look fine.”

“It doesn't happen too often,” she explained quickly— _too_ quickly.

“It doesn't happen _often?”_ his voice was laced with the concern of a father who witnessed their child trip and graze their knee and was never to be let outside again.

Does Grillby even _have_ children?

“I just got a static shock from the doorknob,” Frisk blagged the situation with a hard smile, “I guess the atmosphere is just _electric_ in here!”

_Would have been funnier if he were an electricity elemental, but I'll take it._

Grillby quite evidently didn’t believe her going by the exasperated expression on his face, but let it slide. She was a kid after all.

“Alright. I'll believe you,” he definitely did not believe her. “You best get going before the food becomes cold.”

_Oh, right. The food._

Lazily slugging the bags over her shoulder again, Frisk set off back home, thanks to Grillby opening the door to avoid another ‘static shock’.

Well, at least it was no longer snowing.

_Though I'd take a blizzard over a tornado-inspired storm anyday._

_**..............** _

A week later and she arrived back in the restaurant, this time accompanied by Sans. Jaded flames immediately ignited higher at the sight of them—it was always great to hear the skeleton's peculiar stories and horrible puns.

“Hello, you two,” he greeted as they approached the bar-the kid seemed a tad paler than last week.

_Am I really that observant or is it the lights?_

“heya grillbz, the usual for me.”

 _The usual_ happened to be the only two items on the menu. A burger and fries.

Aside from the alcohol.

“And you?”

Soft brown eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, lost in daydream.

“U-uh,” she stuttered with a bewildered expression, “Not hungry, thanks anyway.”

At her remark, Sans furrowed concerned eyebrows, drawing in a deep breath as he asked, “kid, you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

 _Ah_. _Now **I’m** concerned._

“Um…just not hungry,” she avoided eye contact with the small skeleton, her words feeling practiced as though she’d said them many times before. “Hey, you can have two burgers! Do you think Grillby will let you put them both on the tab?” her voice was light and jokey, a forced smile to hide agitation.

Sans made a humming noise at the back of his throat before his gaze averted towards Grillby again.

“Oh, I suppose I can let you off this one time.” Well, it was more the seventy-fifth time, but who’s counting… definitely not him. Perhaps that wasn’t the answer Sans was expecting, as he only sighed at the offer of free food.

“cool, thanks grillbz.”

Grillby tended to his work again, pouring a bottle of ketchup into a small glass and filled it to the brim. The other two avoided each other's gaze, neither of them attempting to make conversation.

Lovely. An incredibly awkward atmosphere. He slid the glass across the bar towards Sans. “Anytime, my friend.”

This apparently created a great opportunity for the child, as she jumped off the bar stool and began to slink away. “Ima go to the bathroom. I’ll be back!” Ah, the false enthusiasm in her voice was almost comedic. Too bad Sans wasn’t sharing the same feeling.

In fact, he was being strangely quiet. Where was the terrible puns and stories about his childhood? Grillby decided to mention as much.

“Are you alright?”

Sans snorted, rubbing an anxious hand behind his skull. “yeah. it’s not like the kid’s been acting weird the past few days.”

Hmm. Seemingly story time has been cancelled and replaced with Frisk’s life story for the past week. No complaints though, he, too, was curious.

“In what way?”

“well…’sides from straight up not eating anything, she looks tired, so i guess isn’t sleeping. won’t talk, won’t do anything. won’t even go to school.”

Well, that explains why they were here at 1pm on a school day.

“This might seem obvious, but have you tried simply asking her?”

Sans’ fingers drummed against the table, the bony phalanges producing a tapping sound. “couldn’t seem to find the right time. or words.” his smile was unusually downcast, speaking in quiet tones as if Frisk were somehow listening from the other side of the building.

“i was actually wondering if you'd try something...?”

Grillby stopped drying the same dish for the forth time, darting his gaze over to the monster asking such an odd question.

“I barely know the human, but I can try.” He resumed his cleaning.

“yeah, i know but—” Sans froze, noticing Frisk’s stripy blue jumper sauntering back into the room none-the-wiser as though nothing was wrong.

“you’re back.” Sans blinked, the child standing before him. From the five minutes she was missing, Frisk had somehow managed to pale lighter than Sans’ skull, her eyes puffy and red. Which was never a good thing.

Her voice shook as she spoke, “Can we please go home now?”

“Already?” Grillby threw the towel away, asserting his gaze on the human. “Actually... No, you don’t look to be in very good shape. Perhaps you should get some rest.”

Frisk remained impassive as she shifted her focus onto Sans, the last man standing in the room that could stop her from leaving.

Unsurprisingly though, he shook his head with a sigh and gently nudged her shoulders forward, a silent agreement to her request. “c'mon, let's get you home.”

Grillby wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to say goodbye, so he watched the two friends leave the premises in silence.

_What an odd occurrence..._

**..............**

That night was incredibly challenging. With a glass of water and a box of painkillers she had stolen from the kitchen littered on the bedside table; Frisk was bundled up in bed. Having been living alone with Toriel, there wasn’t much of a risk of people finding out about her new conundrum; decidedly it was pretty easy to keep under wraps.

But being curled up under a cosy blanket at night wasn’t doing much to help the intense burning in her ribs and neither were the pills. A tiny hand clamped to her chest as her heart felt like it was going to explode, crushing and pulling until it eventually rips out of her body.

So for the fourth night in a row, Frisk shoved her face into the cold pillow and screamed into it, the foam muffling her shouts and hiding her anguish from the rest of the world. If anything, the pain signified to her that there was something _very much_ wrong with her insides, but damned if she was going to do anything about it.

It always faded to a dull ache eventually, and someday it might even go away completely. There was no reason for anyone else to get involved…

An abrupt crushing sensation felt like a gunshot to the chest; it caught her off guard, eliciting a squeal before managing to slap a hand over her mouth. She sat in tense silence, waiting with bated breath for the eventuality of her bedroom door opening.

Uneventful minutes passed. It seemed like she got lucky—the door never opened. With a relieved sigh, Frisk shoved her head back into the pillow and began to silently cry. Just as she thought she got away with the noise, her door _pinged_ as it crept open, though counting her blessings that the light was never turned on.

“Frisk? My child, are you having a nightmare?”

_No, I’m living in one, but thanks._

“Frisk?” heavy footsteps trod tentatively closer, until she could practically feel her mother’s presence looming over her. “I heard you shout; I know you’re awake.”

Unsure of whether she could handle speaking without crying, Frisk groaned into the pillow she was currently face-down on. Maybe if she stayed there for long enough she’d suffocate and die and not feel any of this—

“What was the dream about, dear?” she felt a large hand softly touch the side of her face. Frisk opened a bleary eye, kicking at the sheets in pain and quite frankly wanting the creature to go away.

“Oh my,” Toriel apparently peeped a better look at her face as she was now being rolled onto her side. Her mother gasped, her eyes somewhat visible through the dark. “Frisk, dear, you look awful!”

With a hoarse chuckle, she murmured a sarcastic “ _Thanks.”_

“What was all that about? Why were you shouting?”

“S’nothing, mama…”

“It very clearly was! Oh look at you, you’re all shaky and crying and hot and… it wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

Frisk chose to remain quiet, attempting to curl even further in on herself that Toriel could confuse her for a snail.

“Alright, tomorrow morning I’m taking you straight to a doctor! There’s no way I’m possibly letting you carry on like this. First you won’t eat or sleep and now this!”

“No, I’ll be okay. It’s fine. It’ll go away,” Frisk’s heart was in her throat at the menacing thought, suddenly deciding that lying was a profound idea.

Toriel blew out a long breath. “No, I am sorry, my child, but this is clearly affecting you terribly. But for now…” a cluster of green whisps materialised into the air, “I’ll help you to sleep again.”

This had become a frequent occurrence now—Frisk refusing (or _unable)_ to sleep, so the loving creature’s magic sends her off like a lullaby.

Still, it worked. There was no doubting that…

**..............**

The phone rang.

“I’ll get it! Go back to bed, my child.”

It was 11am, she didn’t _need_ to go back to bed. It was probably that stupid doctor anyway, some stranger coming to do a house visit, or maybe they were calling to tell her how seriously ill she was and how she was definitely going to die within the next 5 minutes if they didn’t—

“Frisk, it’s Papyrus. He wants to know if you want to go out and play?”

Oh.

Well… that was a much-preferred option. And perfect timing too!

“Okay! I’ll be right there!” she hurried out of her room to find her yellow boots, hightailing it to the lobby and it’s array of shoes.

Toriel however had other plans. “I do not think this is a good idea just yet. Do you remember what happened last night? You were very sick, and this strenuous activity might set off—”

“ _Mooom_ ,” Frisk moaned, slipping on her wellies whilst sitting on the floor, “I’m _fine!_ I had a stomach ache, that’s all!”

There wasn’t a reply from the other room, so presumably she had told Papyrus she can’t go out to play. Well…

_Let’s just see what I have to say about that!_

Without hesitation, Frisk slipped out of the door, closing it with a small _creak_ before making a run for it across the garden. Her boots slightly sunk into the muddy ground as she ran, indicating that it had rained during the night.

Outside the brown wooden gates, Papyrus was waving from a distance, sending Frisk’s heart fluttering from excitement. The delicate singing of birds tweeting over the park was music to her ears.

_Finally, something good!_

“Hello, human! We’re playing tag!” his arms flailed in the air, gesturing wildly as she approached him.

“Hey Papy— … _we?”_

There’s no-one else here…?

“Yes!” he beamed, “Undyne is coming along soon and will shoot us with spears!”

“Ohhh,” that made sense, “Cool. Where is she?”

“Um…just finishing off training, I think. There’s a very tall human recruit she’s teaching how to fight. One day I’ll be just like them! Trained! By Undyne herself! Nyeh heh heh!!”

Frisk giggled, idly pulling at her sleeves, “I’m sure you’ll get there sooner than you think, papy.”

“You’ll have to get past me first!”

Papyrus and Frisk whirled around at the confident booming voice to see Undyne lunging at them from afar. “ _NGAAHHH!!”_

“Run, human!!”

Frisk took off, running laps through perfect green grass around Papyrus with her little legs, magical blue spears skyrocketing towards them in spite of the owner being at a distance. It was undoubtedly rather tricky to do and was a testament to how powerful she really was.

They were about ten minutes in when one of the spears was abruptly suspended in mid-air, surrounded by an even lighter blue until it fizzled out of existence.

“Sans!!” Papyrus yelled happily, narrowly dodging another spear, “You came!!”

_Oh crap._

“heya.” His eye sockets were fixed squarely on Frisk. “don’t mind me, i’m just gonna stand here.”

Papyrus seemed a little downcast, “You’re not gonna play, brother?”

“nope. just gonna stand here.”

_Mom must have sent him to watch me…_

“Suit yourself!!” Papyrus grabbed a spear that was partially in the ground and hurled it playfully at Frisk, “Let’s go!”

_Just ignore Sans. Don’t let him intimidate you._

“Come on, Papyrus!” Undyne hollered from behind him, two more spears tearing through the ground, “Try and hit me with my spears!”

“This is a weird game of tag,” Frisk laughed, quickly passing Papyrus a blue weapon to lunge it at her before it vanished out of being.

Then it started.

It was as if the world had fallen into slow-motion. Tweeting birds erupted into a high-pitched ringing. All at once, the dull ache hit full force, white hot agony pumping around her heart with every beat it took. Caught off guard, Frisk released a hoarse scream, grasping at her chest with steepled fingers as the hairs on her skin became the dust of molten ash.

“Frisk? Hey, you little idiot, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she spluttered quickly— _too_ quickly. She wheezed as the pain skyrocketed, her chest becoming unbearably hot to the point where the next time she opened her eyes, she was on the ground.

_What…the hell…is this…?!_

“pap, give me your phone.”

“What for?”

“just give me your phone, quick.”

“I’m fine,” she tried again, despite seeing nothing but grainy static, “I’m fine…”

Then as quickly as it started—it stopped.

Just like that.

It was just the same, dull ache she had become so familiar with.

Frisk blew out a long breath, her vision gradually clearing. Undyne, Papyrus and Sans were all peering above her; Sans had a cell phone to his skull, appearing to be on the phone to someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably under the spotlight, “I have a… bad stomach ache.” She almost cringed at her own blatant lie.

“Stomach ache!?” Undyne burst into laughter, “Do you think we’re dumb?! Human, that was no stomach ache! You acted like I stabbed you with my spear! In fact, at first I thought I did!”

“Sorry, again,” will they all please just _stop worrying!?_ “I didn’t mean for you guys to see that…” she spared no hesitation in standing again, the fast movement causing her head to spin and blur. Attempting to walk away, she immediately bumped into something tall. A person. A very tall person with two black pools for eyes that seemed to be glaring down at her.

She gulped.

“I’m going home now,” she murmured, clumsily walking past the figure and deciding absolutely anything would be better than having a run in with the skelebro’s _dad_.

_Stars, I’d rather…I’d rather get stabbed with Undyne’s spear. Eat Papyrus’ uncooked spaghetti. Swim in a pool full of acid—okay maybe not that much—_

Sans should have called Toriel instead. At least she wasn’t afraid of her. Speaking of which, the small monster was quickly by her side as she continued to walk. “didn’t think i was gonna let you walk on your own, did ya?” his hand gestured in a dismissive motion behind him, possibly towards the others.

Frisk wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sigh. She couldn’t do anything on her own these days without _someone_ worrying about her, and now _all_ her friends knew.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“you giving me lip?”

She snorted, “Yeah, I am. Whatchu gonna do about it?”

With a genuine cheeky smile, an eye lit up blue, a bony finger jabbing at her chest. She stopped herself from shivering and mirrored the smile.

“im gonna carry ya,” Frisk’s boots were suddenly lifted from the ground, a little yelp escaping her lips as she floated down the path surrounded by blue magic. It was bizarre seeing the grassy land move forward on its own.

“Carry me, huh? I didn’t think you’d have the strength. How evil of you.” her delighted grin didn’t match the crudeness of her words.

Despite the frustration of her overbearing friend invading her life, making decisions without her permission and generally being _annoying,_ she felt…safe. For the first time in a while. And somehow being six feet in the air surrounded by magic after damn well near passing out was what it took to make her realise it.

Her SOUL was overwhelmed with a feeling of grateful tranquillity, as if everything was going to be alright. And maybe it was. Maybe she should let him in and stop being so bitter.

“Sans?”

“yeah, kid?”

“…Thank you.”

“heheh,” she felt his own soul radiate with content, “no problem, bud. someone really cares about you.”

**..............**

“Can’t believe you called your dad on me,” Frisk huffed, half teasing yet half annoyed. To be fair, out of all of her friends, he was the one man that could actually _do_ something about it. Which was probably why Sans called him, but still. “That was mean!”

She collapsed on the sofa in the skelebros house, which was oddly comfy with how new the house and subsequent furniture was. It was nice to hang out with friends instead of sitting at home alone with her mom all day.

“heh, really? ‘cause i don’t know if you noticed, but you were screaming.”

Frisk blinked. Did she really do that out loud?

He dropped onto the sofa seat beside her. “and then it stopped just as fast, so i dunno. you’re lucky he didn’t follow us home.”

Yeah… really lucky.

“I'm really sorry you had to see that. I wanted to keep it secret, but it came on so suddenly...”

“you shouldn’t _have_ to keep it secret,” his eyes were caring and sincere, “you need to tell me what's going on cos i dunno if i can keep seeing you like this.”

Frisk’s arms wrapped tightly around her knees, the uneasiness towards the subject was back with a vengeance. “I know but...I really don’t want to. I have my reasons, just...don't."

“this ain't right, bud.”

“I’m sorry. It’s all I have at the moment.”

“you know, your ma is really worried about you.”

“I know...”

“can you at least check in with my old man? it'll help me feel a lot better.”

A wave of nausea hit at the distasteful mention of the scary man. “...I'm sorry but I don't feel comfortable with that either.”

“why not? he specializes in human souls so there is no-one more qualified than--"

“I said _no!”_ strained anger crept into her voice. As if she were hostile, Sans was taken aback, bright eyelights narrowing to pinpricks and shuffling back on the couch.

“kid, please...” his voice trailed off, knowing Frisk was hard set in her ways and pleading was futile.

“ _No!_ I don't want to and that's final!”

Shouting at him was probably unnecessary, but how else would you get the point across? Clearly he was ignoring her wishes and trying to make her do something she didn’t want to do! Her friend was such a nice person but couldn’t seem to help but get involved in her problems.

“I’m sorry,” she bit her lip, guilt hitting her like a kick to the stomach, “I just want to be left alone. I don’t want anyone to get involved. I can handle it myself.”

Sans released something of a sigh, slumping in resignation. “fine. i won’t force you. but you need to tell _someone._ it doesn’t have to be right now but tell _someone._ ”

“Yeah,” Frisk shrugged him off, relaxing now he had backed off a bit, “I will eventually.”

Tense silence hung in the air, and for a second a horrible thought crossed Frisk’s mind. _What if I told him the truth about me?_

“I um…” she paused, _do I really want to go through with this?_

_Am I going to regret this later?_

“you umm?” Sans taunted with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Frisk chuckled, “No, um…can I tell you a secret? Something I haven’t told anyone else?”

Interest sparked in the small monster’s eyes, sitting upright from his slouched position. “course you can. what’s up?”

“Well…” she stopped again, taking a deep breath. She never told anyone this before. “Well…you know of the legend, right? The underground one?”

“…yeah?”

“The one—where like—you go, and you never return?”

“yeah.”

“Well, I… a few years ago I tried…to…o-on purpose…” her words were broken and deliberate, every phrase needing to be forced out by strength of will.

“huh.” Sans watched her intently, unsure of what to say but didn’t know how to convey his concern than anything other than his sympathetic expression. “okay…”

“And… before that… I tried before… and it didn’t… work… and… I woke up in…um…”

“yeah.”

“And well… they were all over me, you know? A kid, doing that. They…thought…I was…dared to. Or pushed, or…an accident, or something. And in the end…I said it was…an accident. Because…they…wouldn’t…leave me alone…”

“okay.”

“And I was…really… really scared and now…I can’t…you know…”

“yeah.”

“Not again… I can’t…” she forced herself to take a deep breath, tears burning the corners of her eyes and threatening to fall. “I can’t…” She felt a hand land on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze and willing her to stay calm.

“it’s ok. you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. i think I get it now.”

“No, I need to… for myself, I need to say it. Make it real.”

“alright.”

“So… all of that stuff and well… one day—I just decided to. It’s odd, I was actually pretty fine, then all of a sudden…I just… you know… I was by the mountain and suddenly… I just thought…”

“yeah.” his voice wavered.

“I thought… just do it. You know? Just… just do it. So, I did, and I thought… it’s so far down, no-one will ever find me. And that will be it. You know? No waking up inside weird hospitals with people touching you and doing things to you and not letting you do anything and…just… stop. You know?”

“yeah.”

“Sorry…”

“it’s ok.”

“…But I did, and… well I landed on something soft and it was the flowers and… here I am.” She breathed a wry incredulous snort, almost disbelieving that she just admitted all of that.

Sans was eerily silent, struggling to take it all in and would no doubt be seeing Frisk in a different light for the rest of their friendship.

“so…” he began, carefully choosing his words with focused eyes, “all of this stuff about you being ill, your mom wanting to get a doctor, me trying to get you to see my pops—it freaks you out, huh?” another word that Frisk was pretty sure was a curse died on Sans’ lips, appearing to swallow a string of profanity as the confession processed through his mind.

Frisk nervously chuckled, “Y-yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“no, no don’t be. this is good.” then he laughed, “you know, when i said _tell someone,_ i meant about your illness, not your tragic backstory,” He wore a huge grin as to ensure she took his joke lightly.

Frisk offered small smile, “Yeah. Sorry. That just… came out.”

The two friends watched each other in silence for a moment before Frisk’s guard finally crumpled, diving sideways towards Sans and curling up in his lap, quietly whimpering in self-pity.

With a tentative sigh, Sans pulled her against his shoulder, smoothing her hair. “it’s alright. we’ll work this out.”

“we always do.”

**..............**

**TBC... :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has trust issues and won't let anyone in, now she's screwed herself over. Gaster is really bad at being comforting. Toriel is doing her best. Sans just wants some ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got pretty carried away and this one is kinda long...lol  
> Apparently I like to torture Frisk. F.
> 
> Also, because of a comment I received at like 5am this morning on this fic that made me feel really bad and nearly threw the towel in on writing this, comments are disabled...this fic makes me happy and i'll do what i want, even if it means it's similar to another fic i wrote which is apparently a problem. that was completely uncalled for but i decided i'm not gonna let it stop me from writing.
> 
> Anyhow i hope the rest of you enjoy it :))

_“you know, when i said tell someone, i meant about your illness, not your tragic backstory,” He wore a huge grin as to ensure she took his joke lightly._

_The two friends watched each other in silence for a moment before Frisk’s guard finally crumpled, diving sideways towards Sans and curling up in his lap, quietly whimpering in self-pity._

_With a tentative sigh, Sans pulled her against his shoulder, smoothing her hair. “it’s alright. we’ll work this out. we always do.”_

**...**

If she had thought the pain would somehow go away after admitting her past, boy, was she wrong.

It was back with a vengeance, leaving Frisk curled up on her side on the skelebros sofa in agony, not to mention holding herself back from crying with the power of sheer will was exhausting.

She stared furiously at the ceiling, hoping it would crumble and fall down to relieve her suffering. All it did was menacingly stare back, mocking her inability to do anything. Painkillers weren't even touching the sides anymore.

This was ridiculous.

With an audible huff, she crawled onto her back—maybe it was the pressure.

Nope, that hurts too.

 _“Argh!”_ she cried in frustration, aimlessly whacking her arms around; it didn't matter where she put them, they didn't help.

“hey bud, everything ok in here?” And there’s Sans, as light hearted as ever.

“I'm _fine!”_ her tone was oddly venomous, frustration seeping out of her core. Lifting her arm to wave him off, ruthless white-hot pain shot up her forearm, lingering menacingly in her throbbing muscles and joining in unison with the rest of her screaming body to make her life a living hell. Heaven forbid anyone tries to talk to—

“man, you don't look so good--"

_“Piss off!”_

_Oops._

That was a horrible thing to say to her friend, _of course it was!_ But damned be the people that attempted some form of communication under her current fit of agony.

“i thought we'd been over this last year. i thought you could trust us now. why won't you tell us anything?”

Frisk remained tight-lipped.

_Did you forget what I told you **yesterday**?_

_...This is different._

She was vaguely aware of the small skeleton's form kneeling in front of her, a hand outstretched as to offer her something that will definitely do nothing to quell this torture.

“take these, should take the edge off,” a collection of pills sat in his hand, their existence taunting her as if to say _there is nothing on earth that will cure your suffering and that includes us! Screw you!_

The hand shook again, prompting her to take the concoction. “c'mon. it'll help,” the lie pronounced from the monster’s mouth, knowing full well it was likely some sly ploy to get her to find help when these placebo pills do absolutely nothing. Well, he was about to be extremely disappointed.

“No,” Frisk hissed through gritted teeth, becoming ever so slightly more aware of the sweat dripping from her eyes. “It won't do anything. It’s _useless._ ”

“my old man doesn’t seem to think so.”

_“Then tell your old man to piss off!”_

She knew she'd regret saying those words the minute they left her mouth, her agonized mind refusing to filter anything that went through it.

There was a frustrated sigh originating from the skeleton, the patience and welcoming hand disappearing from her line of sight.

“then suffer in silence. im not your stupid maid.”

And with that he stormed off.

 _Well_. Thanks to Sans’ reaction, the unrelenting agony was interrupted by the sinking feeling in her gut, although it quickly resumed its natural course of inflicting misery seconds later.

_Will it stop if I just reset?_

**_...time skip..._ **

“i just need you to check on her. _please,”_ at his wits end, Sans resorted to pleading with none other than his father, who didn’t seem interested in getting involved at all. Which was probably a good thing for Frisk, not so much good for everyone else.

“Sans, as I have explained to you before, I will not get involved if she does not will it. Besides, I am not _that_ kind of doctor.”

“but you know how! i don’t—i don’t give a shit if you think you’re just a scientist—you know about human souls, you’ve studied them more than anyone else on the bloody planet and you’re just gonna watch an innocent kid die!?”

“Stop overreacting, she is not going to _die_ just because I don’t _check on her.”_

His volume raised several notches, “you don’t _know that!”_

Last year her soul had cracked thanks to a certain flower, and if took a hell of a lot of time to fix it. Maybe the fix wasn’t such a fix after all. Maybe the fix wasn’t good enough it was happening again.

With how she was currently acting, it could be dangerous—life threatening even—but because there was limited knowledge on human illnesses they could wake up one day and find her dead. _Is that what he wanted?!_

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Gaster slumped down onto his office chair, averting his gaze from his persistent son. “Listen to me. If it gets any worse—I may look into it. Allowing the continuation of this state of affairs could cause disarray amongst our citizens, especially now we’re on the surface. If a human child dies whilst in our care, this may…have consequences.”

Yeah, _consequences_. Good to know the kid is just a _thing_ and her death would be an _inconvenience_.

“but you’ll look into it?”

“If it gets worse, yes.”

Sans blew out a relieved breath— _thank god._

“But I still don’t see why you cannot just call other humans for help. There are hospitals here, no? Are you unable to call an ambulance? Or take her there yourself?”

_This is where it gets complicated._

“yeah, i can do that, sure. tori and i were considering it. but then…she told me things. and i decided it’s… not in her best interests.” Reminiscing over the story Frisk told him earlier, Sans cringed at the idea of him betraying her trust, putting her through something like that again. It’s lucky she was in the care of people that understood—like himself and Toriel. Suddenly the thought of putting her in Gaster’s care didn’t seem so appealing. No doubt the man would drop her off there kicking and screaming and proceed to then teleport away.

He’s never been very good with empathy.

“If you believe you know best, then so be it.”

Damn it—it wasn’t that he thinks he _knows best,_ it’s that he has a slither of empathy for the kid, which was more than what the other guy could say.

**_...timeskip..._ **

It was only a few hours later while Gaster was finishing some logging of an experiment to expand the core into the surface’s power grid, when there was a dainty hesitant knock at the door.

He’d memorised the knocking pattern of every single person he knew—and this wasn’t a familiar knock to anyone that was close to him.

With a frown, he sat back in his chair, glancing over to the offending door. “Come.”

A few moments had passed, and nothing happened. For a second he began to wonder if he imagined it. So, he spun back around to his desk and continued scribbling notes in a language no-one but his immediate family could comprehend.

Gaster managed to get about three more words down before the door creaked open.

Curious, he dropped his pen, turning his full attention to the door. A tiny human head popped through, before disappearing.

It was almost endearing. Almost.

Then, the door was pushed open completely, revealing the gossip of the month—the human child.

And said human child was looking extremely pale, puffy red eyed, limbs shaking. It didn’t take a trained eye to notice that there was something wrong, which was probably what Sans had been trying to tell him all this time.

“...Hi.”

“Hello.”

“A-are you busy?” she whispered, shuffling back towards the door as if she were about to leave again.

None of that.

“Not particularly,” he replied, standing up to greet the human and shut the door behind her—now she couldn’t run away.

At the action, the child’s shaking seemed to increase tenfold, her breathing picking up at a rapid pace. Curious.

“I…” she began, then stopped, suddenly imploding into a fit of tears. She backed against the wall, hyperventilating and clutching the hem of her shirt as if it were a lifeline. “It won’t stop—it won’t go away—it hurts so much—please just make it go away!” she cried through gasping breaths.

Surprised, Gaster ushered her over to his chair, sitting her down and attempting to figure out where to go from here. He was never very good at being comforting.

Through her continued hyperventilating, he frowned, wheeling up a stool for him to sit on—this was much worse than he anticipated.

“Did you take the medicine I told Sans to give you?” he asked, placing his chair in front of hers.

She shook her head no.

_…What?_

What was the point of complaining about the pain not dissipating when you won’t even take the _painkillers?_

Stay calm. Human children were ridiculous and illogical at times.

“Why not?” he found himself asking instead.

The child seemed to take a moment to think, before saying, “Did S-Sans tell you ab-about the…the st-stuff?”

The…stuff?

“No…?”

“Oh,” she breathed, blinking away some more tears, “I g-guess I t-told him n-not to.”

This child wasn’t making any sense whatsoever.

“Why did you come to me?”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her gaze dropping fixedly to her feet. “People were s-saying you knew h-how to f-f-f-fix it but you wouldn’t d-d-d-d-do any-t-th-th-th-th—”

“Breathe, it is alright now,” he murmured, brows furrowing, “I apologise. I did not realise the severity of the situation.”

Her pale face was covered with sweat, eyes bulging and bloodshot. This no doubt was being helped by the child’s hyperventilating—they definitely weren’t meant to do that. He pressed two digits to the child's wrist—her pulse was abnormally racing.

“You must calm down,” he urged, struggling to figure out what was going on, “Why are you panicking?”

The harsh breathing continued to spiral, until it escalated into short gasps, small hands grasping weakly at her throat as if she couldn’t breathe. “Hey. Stop it. What's the matter?”

Her small body jerked forward out of the chair, collapsing onto the floor and clambering with trembling hands, trying to get away. It was a pretty pathetic display, but somehow he needed to get it to stop.

At that moment, the door opened again, and he was almost relieved to see Sans on the other side of it.

“what did you do.” Never mind then.

“I did not do anything. She merely started panicking and keeled over on her own.”

Sans ignored him, kneeling to the child’s position and picking her up. “hey, hey. calm down. breathe. breathe, it’s alright. it’s alright.” bringing her against his shoulder, a hand went on her back, willing her to slow down. “it’s ok. calm down… jeez, what the hell…” his gaze locked with Gaster’s, accusing eyes making him recoil in offence.

“I assure you, I did not do anything. She came to my office on her own and proceeded to hyperventilate for an unknown reason.”

Sans fumed, “it’s called a panic attack, you shouldn’t have let her in here without me knowing.”

…What on _earth?_

“Why not? Why must she be supervised around me by _you?”_

“because—!” he stopped, realisation dawning in his eyes about…something. Then his gaze met with his again, apologetic. “actually, this isn’t your fault.”

“You finally realised?”

“yeah, i—” he took another glance at the child in his arms, before backing away to the door, “i’m gonna go. sorry.”

When the door slammed shut via a puff of blue magic, Gaster found himself staring at it for at least a whole minute whilst he attempted to process what had just happened.

What an odd child, and an odd situation to find himself in.

**_...time skip..._ **

It was raining. She knew that much the moment consciousness returned to the forefront of her mind. The patter of rain hitting drainpipes were a comforting distraction from the reality she knew she’d eventually have to return to.

The raw memory of what happened before she passed out were a burden, a horrible inkling of dread that threatened to dominate her every thought.

_Did I really have a panic attack…?_

_Or was that a dream?_

_Was I asleep on the couch the entire time?_

Finally, she opened her eyes, the unexpected blanket covering her a welcome surprise. Little fingers grasped the cotton’s soft edges and pulling it further over herself, leaving only her face peeping out.

Her eyes scoured the room, looking for something—she wasn’t sure what—that would help anchor the idea that this was reality and not a dream. An occupied armchair stood in the corner of the darkened room, and sat in it was her mother, of whom seemed to be completely engrossed in a book.

This was slightly confusing for her sleepy mind—she was in the skelebros house, yet her mother was the only person she lay eyes upon.

_Maybe they called her here after that… incident…_

_What do they think of me now…? Probably that I’m really pathetic…_

Tentatively, she shifted onto her side—or _attempted_ to. With a quiet groan, she squeezed her eyes shut as the pain she had become _oh so familiar with_ returned, a dull yet persistent throbbing in her ribs.

Alas, this was swiftly brought to her mother’s attention. Her eyes glanced over her reading glasses, landing on Frisk’s squirming form. The book was no longer important, attention completely diverted as she instantly stood up. “Frisk, dear, are you alright?” she trod over delicately as if avoiding a floor full of marbles. “I got a call from your friends, so I’m staying here to keep an eye on you. How are you feeling?”

Frisk moaned again; whether it was out of frustration or pain she didn’t know.

“Why can’t I just go home?”

Toriel sighed gently. “If you are not willing to seek help, then here is the safest place to be. Surrounded by people, one of whom is by to help if needed.”

_Yeah, but he **won’t** do anything, even if I was laying on the floor dying._

“Sorry.” The single word seemed to be the only thing she was capable of saying. Frisk grit her teeth, ducking her head under the blanket as to hide her anguish from the observant creature.

“It’s not your fault, my child. None of this is. But…it would really help to know what’s wrong?”

No reply.

She should have anticipated that. The small chuckle from the monster proved this.

“Alright. I suppose I should leave you alone now…” there was a brief pause, the sentence left open-ended while she formulated a continuance. “I have left the painkillers on the coffee table. You can take them if you choose to do so.”

Frisk grunted in reply, but her mother’s appeal was useless. There was no way she was moving from her current position, not in a million years. It hurt too much...

...She lost track of time.

The next thing she knew, a familiar man was standing over her, blurring in and out of clarity. He was staring daggers into her, her empty stomach shrivelled with anxiety.

“How long has it been?” she heard him say to a disembodied presence somewhere in the room.

“About six days. She hasn’t eaten a thing and has hardly moved for two of them.”

Very boring.

Time to go back to sleep.

“Stay awake, child.” The back of a cold hand grazed her forehead, remaining there for a second before releasing.

“Can't you do anything?”

“If this continues we may have to resort to more drastic measures. Can you get me a health snack from your kitchen?”

“Of course.” Steady feet strode away, from the sound alone Frisk could tell the footsteps belonged to Toriel.

She had a moment's silence until it was interrupted by nagging.

“You need to eat.” The statement wasn't a question.

For a while, Frisk considered not replying and falling back to sleep. But the last speck of rationality in the back of her mind refused.

“Can't,” she croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. “Hurts.”

“I know.”

Opening her eyes revealed the man himself—was that _worry_ in those old tired eyes?

“Sleep,” she murmured to herself, eyelids heavily fluttering shut.

That plan was tossed out the window, two bony hands firmly capturing the sides of her head. It worked well enough for fatigued eyes to reopen. “Don't. You need to eat something first.”

“Mmm...”

“Here we are!” the upbeat energy of her mom was a stark contrast to Gaster's own. “I've already unwrapped it for you, my dear.”

She was about to refuse it and duck under the covers again, but the stern glare of the intimidating scientist looming over her convinced Frisk otherwise.

Reluctantly, she snatched up the health snack from Toriel's hand, skilfully hiding the pained expression that wanted to take shape on her face.

Having no intention of finishing it, she nibbled on the crunchy texture, alarmed with how much effort it took to swallow the tiny crumbs. Gaster seemed to relax slightly at the epiphany.

“That’s it,” Toriel praised from beside her, “Well done. I’m proud of you, my child.”

Great. Can she stop eating now?

Frisk was about to make an excuse to the throw the unwanted bar of horridly tasting oats away when the door went, opening and shutting as to announce someone’s arrival.

Gaster scowled, glancing behind him to see who it was, but relaxed. So that meant it was someone he trusted. Which means…

“Human!! You’re awake!!”

Ah. Yes.

Papyrus joyfully strolled over, almost matching Toriel’s energy. “I was wondering when you’d wake up! So they’re okay now?” he turned hopefully towards Gaster, of whom momentarily looked conflicted.

“I’m…almost certain they will make a recovery.”

Deftly leaving _full_ out of the sentence. It was going to be _a_ recovery alright.

“That’s good news! I was worried,” his glance moved from Frisk, to Toriel to Gaster. “Have you seen Sans?”

Gaster’s expression didn’t shift. “I believe he is asleep.”

“Asleep!?” Papyrus hollered, already marching towards the stairs, “It’s five o’clock in the afternoon! That lazy good-for-nothing…” the rest of his rant was inaudible as he stomped up the stairs. Deepest sympathies for his brother. Toriel giggled at the spectacle.

With that interruption over with, Gaster narrowed his eyes at the oat bar Frisk was trying to hide.

“I don’t wanna eat anymore,” she murmured innocently, like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Literally.

“You will finish it.”

“But…”

“Finish it.”

Toriel attempted to chime in to her defence, “Gaster, I really don’t think—”

“Would you rather me insert a feeding tube down your throat?”

Frisk stiffened, eyes shimmering pools of sickened fear as she recoiled back into her blanket.

“Then eat it.”

Toriel’s expression was dark. “ _Doctor Gaster,_ come with me,” she declared with fierce demand. “ _Now._ " Quite clearly, he had pushed the wrong buttons.

The two left the room, and from the kitchen Frisk could quite easily hear her mother shouting at him through the walls, followed by monotonous replies that were completely the opposite of the calmness that Toriel had lost.

As the words of the scientist began to sink in, Frisk’s limbs became weak with horrified shock. She dropped the foodstuffs, unable to consume it whether anyone liked it or not. Her hands began to shake, tears pooling in her eyes, and for a brief moment she was aware that this was very rapidly becoming a repeat of her earlier panic attack.

From the other room, the sound of the two monsters raising their voice at each other could be heard.

“How could you?! Frisk is a sick child, you cannot threaten them like that!”

“I don’t believe she understands the gravity of the situation. She is _dying,_ your highness, and she is the only one responsible for it.”

“Then help her! I do not want to lose another child to sickness!”

“That is exactly what I am trying to do.”

“By threatening her?! What’s wrong with you!?”

“I did say if this continues we will have to resort to more drastic measures, and that is one of them. I calculate she can survive another two days, three at most, before her body shuts down.”

“Just…just stop! Stop talking! You… horrible, horrible man!”

“I am only telling you the truth. It is time you see the situation for what it is.”

“Yesterday you said she was just being, and I quote, _pathetic_. That you’d only get involved if something bad happens. And _now_ you’re saying she’s going to die?!”

“As I stated earlier, I did not realise how severe this was until I actually had the opportunity to look at her. There is something wrong with her soul and I cannot access it to inspect it further.”

“Her…her… _what?_ Why not? Why didn’t you tell any of us this?” Was it the same issue as last year? Was Flowey back?

“I attempted to look into this when she were asleep a few hours ago. It was only then I realised the direness of the situation. Humans cannot survive without food or water for as long as we can.”

She was becoming hysterical, “But why can’t you fix it? Fix it! Now!”

“I have _tried,”_ Gaster’s voice was getting distinctly louder now, “Her soul refuses to manifest, even when asleep. Because of this I presume that is where the root cause lies. And subconsciously she does not want anyone to access it.”

“So… so she’s going to die? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I am doing everything in my power to avoid that. She _must_ continue to eat more, lest I resort to the earlier method that I, as you say, _threatened_ her with.”

“But she’s just a child… it’s not fair.”

“Such is life. We have limited knowledge on humans. There is only so much we can do.”

The voices fell into silence, the argument dropping at the bombshell Gaster had no qualms in hiding. Then, as the quiet sobbing started, the man left the room, looking visibly shaken and no less angry.

Riddled with guilt, Frisk grabbed the oat bar with shaky hands and forced her unwilling body to comply.

_I’ve been so selfish…_

Filled with nothing else but anxiety, her stomach recoiled, bile rising to her throat. She managed to roll herself onto her side in time to throw up the tiny particles of food she had managed to consume. Everything she had opened up to Sans about, everything she was terrified of—it was all coming true. Half-suppressed memories threatened to invade the forefront of her mind, images flashing and merging into the real world.

With a terrified sob, she was aware of the other man approaching, cautiously, slowly.

Tear-filled eyes refused to look away from the ground, only able to mutter something absolutely pathetic but was desperate to save herself. “Please don’t hurt me…”

There was a long-drawn-out sigh.

“Believe it or not, I am not trying to.”

“I’ll eat, I’ll do whatever you say,” she whispered, hands quivering uncontrollably, “Don’t…d-don’t do that stuff to me.”

Her mind tried to take her back to the time a few years ago, back in…the hospital…a memory she tried so hard to suppress. And now it was probably going to happen all over again.

“I am only trying to save your life. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I k-know, j-just,” she shuddered, “D-don’t, please.”

The empty reply hung in the air, and Frisk swallowed hard in trepidation for what the man was going to do. Eventually she felt his presence brush closer, kneeling down to her level on the couch.

“Let me access your soul.” came the surprisingly gentle reply.

“What…but…” she blinked away more tears, “I…I can’t… I don’t want to…”

“Then I am running out of ideas.”

Frisk balled her hand into a fist, shoving it in her mouth and sobbing on it tearfully. She had never felt so petrified in her life.

In fact, she almost jumped out of her skin when a hand clasped her shaking shoulder, gasping frightfully at the touch.

“It’s alright,” came a hushed reply, “I will figure something out. But you must calm down.”

“I can’t… I can’t…”

The hand that was on her shoulder moved to her chin, forcing frightened eyes to look up at him as he spoke. “Yes, you can.” his eyes were sincere. “I… am admittedly not very good at these situations. If you like I can bring in your mother, or perhaps Sans or Papyrus.”

Well. Her mother was currently sobbing in the kitchen, Sans was asleep and Papyrus…was too innocent to be let in on this. So she was stuck with the scary man made of her worst nightmares. Apart from the Flowey amalgamation of doom a year or two ago.

“I should leave them alone…”

“I believe you have good reason to interrupt them right now.”

Frisk nearly snorted—yeah, she was in a bit of a bad situation right now, wasn’t she?

“Look…” she began, forcing herself to take deep breaths as she tried to compose herself, “I’ll just…just…let me get over this…and for the nausea to go away, and…I’ll eat whatever you give me. Okay? Just… just d-don’t do any of that stuff you said earlier. Okay?”

Gaster was slow to reply, a low thoughtful hum, before he replied simply, “Alright.”

Frisk sagged, all the tension suddenly leaving her body.

_Thank the stars. Oh gosh. Oh gosh…_

She didn’t care about the obvious breathy exhale of relief that left her body—she hoped he _knew_ how absolutely stupidly terrified she was of him, and she hoped he felt bad about it.

**_...time skip..._ **

Eating an entire burger would never in a million years be considered an _achievement_ (unless it was created by Papyrus…) but in Frisk’s case, it was something to be proud of, most of all to Sans for reasons more than one.

Keeping food down was extremely difficult against her rebelling body, but maybe—just _maybe—_ if she could hold out long enough…it would go away on it’s own. That’s what everyone hoped.

“hey, bud,” Sans sat at the opposite end of the table in the middle of Grillbys, away from prying eyes with a shit-eating grin on his face, “so proud right now.”

Frisk smiled pridefully, feeling as if she’d just run a hundred-mile marathon. It had been two weeks since her huge fallout with Gaster. But perhaps his _threats_ actually made a difference. Or perhaps it was the fact he gave her another chance. The pain was still there, in fact it had been growing steadily worse _if that was even possible,_ although she had been concurrently getting better at hiding it.

The feeling had become second-nature now, and overtime she had learned to push the will of her own determined mind over her body’s rebellious’ own. But it seemed to be working, because she was still here.

She still wasn’t a single step closer to finding out why there was so much pain in the first place, but if it was no longer lethal, perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps it was just… _one of those things,_ as Papyrus says. Even if Gaster wasn’t a hundred percent on board with the notion, perhaps he will be eventually…

“you up for some dessert?”

Frisk craned her head. “Dessert? Here?” Grillbys never had desserts.

Sans plonked his chin between the palms of his hands on the table and grinned. “yup. the nicecream guy is partnering with grillbz here, so there’s gonna be desserts. though i think we’re limited to one scoop of vanilla, its better than nothing i guess.”

_Heh. He’s gonna be in here ten times more than usual with the extra desserts he can put on his bottomless tab._

“Sure, I’ll give it a go!” Plus, it would be easy on the stomach too, right? And it was only half past seven, they had time.

“cool. hold on a sec,” the chair scraped across the wooden floor as he stood up, lugging his way over the bar table at his own leisurely pace.

Did he make a pun? Yes. Was it terrible? Yes it was. Would Frisk need to spend the rest of her life listening to these puns? … Quite possibly.

The small skeleton was soon wandering back, appearing happily distracted going by his expression, which was a lovely contrast to the despair he had been wearing earlier in the month.

She was partly guilty for that.

“here you go bud, one vanilla nicecream,” Sans handed the cone over to her, which she took gratefully and began to lick the cream like she hadn’t tasted water in three years. Damn, it was a _nice_ nicecream. Vanilla with just a _dash_ of strawberry sauce.

“Thanks Sans,” she whispered, before tailing more off the top in one fellow swoop. “Is yummy.”

“no probs. grillbz said it’s on the house. how weird's that?” Ah yes, what a shocking revelation that was. A wide smirk spread across his face, “we’re both gonna run him out of business.”

Before long she had finished the entire thing, the remnants of the spilt ice cream dripping off the table and onto the floor. Oops. Oh well.

“right, we should be getting back. you’re still ok to go back to your ma’s house, yeah?”

“Yeah!” she rejoiced excitedly, standing up quickly. Too quickly. The luminescent orange room span and dipped upside down, finding herself nearly keeling over on the table—narrowly avoided thanks to her fast reflexes slamming both hands down on the table.

When her vision recovered, she chuckled. “Sorry, I got too excited.”

Sans on the other hand wore a look of unease. It was pretty hurtful—from now until the foreseeable future everyone was going to be walking on eggshells around her, treating her like fragile glass.

“you sure? you’ve gone all pale again, uh,” he took hold of her shoulders, trying to make her sit down.

“ _Saaans_!” she groaned, “I’m fine! I feel fine! I just stood up too fast, it’s normal for humans.”

“it’s normal?”

“Yeah, _everyone_ gets it.”

Sans didn’t look convinced, but he bit. “hoookay. if you say so.”

Frisk giggled, making her way towards the door, getting ready to put a steady hand on the doorknob—until a hand grasped around her arm, and suddenly she wasn’t in Grillbys anymore. It was the void. The black void. The endless dark black void and—

Now she was back in New Home.

Teleport.

Just a teleport.

…Seriously?

“there. now ya can’t faint on me. your bed is upstairs. or do you need me to teleport you there too?”

Frowning, Frisk shook her head, “Why did you teleport? Now you’ll have to walk home on your own.” There was no way he could teleport twice in one sitting, that was risky to the magic reserves.

“yeah? kid, it’s literally just a three-minute walk down the road. i think i’ll live,” he joked, cringing at his choice of words. “anyways, get to bed before ya mom spots us and gives me what for. i need a drink.”

“But it’s only half seven!”

“go to bed!” he called from down the road. Grunting, Frisk pushed the door open and scanned the room for the presence of her mother.

“I’m home!” which was evident by the door slamming shut, but just in case… “Mom?”

“Here! I'm here!” Toriel traversed into the living room, giving Frisk a big warm hug. “How did it go? Are you alright? Did you manage to eat anyth—"

“Actually I ate a whole burger and some nicecream.”

“Oh, my child, I am so proud!” she wrapped her arms around Frisk once again, “It's so good you're doing better now.”

“Yeah,” Frisk nodded distractedly. Was it her mind or was...she...?

Nah, just tired. _Bed._

“I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced quickly, already making her way towards the stairs. Toriel frowned, trailing after her.

“That's rather early. I have been ever so lonely, waiting for you to come home...”

Frisk snorted at the top of the stairs, “Okay, you can tuck me in! Or read me a book, or… something.”

Toriel was delighted, “Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Both creatures stopped outside her bedroom door. “I’ll let you get changed while I grab a book!”

With a content smile, Frisk nodded and slid into her bedroom, locking the door and kicking her socks off. She pulled her shirt over her head, quickly replacing it with warm silky pink pyjamas.

She happily wriggled, _comfy comfy!_ And searched for her matching socks. That’s when the pain hit. Without warning, it felt as if a knife had sliced through her chest, stabbing pain ripping through her upper left ribs, eliciting an alarmed squeak.

_Oh, no._

Not again.

_Right, right has happened before._

_Just imagine the pain floating away, discarded, nonexis—_

“ _Agh!”_ she shrieked, eyes clamping shut as she clutched the skin of her chest instinctively.

_Just wait it out. Wait it out. You've done this before. Wait it out..._

_…Hold on, why are my hands glowing red...?_

**_...thump._ **

**_...some time is passing..._ **

“Oh goodness, what would she like to read?” Toriel wondered out loud, sifting through the fifty odd books she had—most of which were snail related. But today was a cause for celebration, perhaps they could read something more exciting such as The Epic Cinematic Tale of Goldilocks.

Yes, that sounds perfect.

Slipping the book under her arm, she trod back up the stairs and knocked on the child's door.

“Frisk? Are you ready?”

...

“I have chosen something special, I think you will like it!”

...

“Frisk?”

...

“Frisk!” heart in her throat, she pounded on the door, “Frisk! Are you there?”

Still nothing.

Swallowing stress-induced nausea, she thumped a desperate elbow on the door. “My child, talk to me! Are you alright? Frisk!”

Dropping the book on the floor, she rattled the door handle, “Frisk, open the door! Open the door right now!”

...

“Oh no... oh my...” Toriel deserted her position, running to the phone so fast she was surprised she was physically capable.

“heya tori, howzit go--"

“Sans! My friend, please get over here right now!”

There was a low chuckle, “heheheh...i didn’t know... _hic..._ you felt... _hic_...that way... _hic.”_

Is he _drunk!?_

“Sans, this is urgent!”

Toriel heard scrambling noises as the phone's receiver were being passed around, before a deeper, more serious voice sounded through.

“What’s happened?” Probably Gaster.

“I can’t get in Frisk's room, they’ve locked their door and not answering me, and I can't get in and--"

_Whoosh._

A haze of blue shrouded the air. The scientist didn’t even offer his usual curt greeting, merely headed straight for the stairs at breakneck pace.

“What were you doing?” he queried, practically sprinting up the incline.

Toriel slid the phone back into her gown. “I was just getting a book to read to her, then I heard a thump and now I can't get in her room!”

Approaching the hallway, he turned to her quizzically.

Oh, right.

“It’s that one,” she confirmed, pointing at a closed door to the end of the hallway.

Just like Toriel had attempted, Gaster hammered on the door, a touch more forcefully than the kindly creature.

“Frisk, open the door,” he demanded with authority, looking around the immediate area to find something to ram the door with if needed.

“Can you teleport in?”

“Hmm,” Gaster narrowed his eyes, summoning the magic that never came, knowing full well it wasn’t going to in the first place. “I cannot teleport sequentially so quickly. I need another ten minutes at the minimum.”

“Oh,” Toriel looked sullen, then with a spark of urgent creativity, opened a cupboard door. She spotted her item of interest, a fire extinguisher, and heaved the massive red cylinder over to Gaster. “Can you use this?”

The heavy object now had a divine purpose. To bash open a door.

With ease, Gaster hauled the object in the air, sending it flying towards the door. As it was made of wood, the hinges broke off at the first hit, and the scientist wasted no time stepping into the rubble to find the unresponsive child.

Just as everyone had feared, aforementioned child was lain sprawled out on the floor, half-dressed in pyjamas, breathless and appearing not at all lucid. She could be confused for being asleep if it weren’t for the gasping.

“Oh goodness,” Toriel murmured as Gaster stepped over to her, his digits searching her neck for a pulse. It was there, but thready. The man muttered something incoherently in what sounded like another language, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

Toriel shuddered, “What’s happened? What’s wrong with her?”

Between a moment of tense silence, Gaster's expression was grave.

“I believe we have just run out of time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is in peril, but her ailment is revealed. Toriel gets on Gaster's nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: This chapter is really angsty and hurt and gets pretty serious regarding Frisk's injuries, and is mostly a drug-induced Frisk trying to get away from grumpy Dadster just trying to help. I swear it softens later. Maybe. Or not lmao

_Just as everyone had feared, aforementioned child was lain sprawled out on the floor, half-dressed in pyjamas, breathless and appearing not at all lucid._

_“Oh goodness,” Toriel murmured as Gaster stepped over to her, his digits searching her neck for a pulse. It was there, but thready. The man muttered something incoherently in what sounded like another language, which probably wasn’t a good sign._

_Between a moment of tense silence, Gaster's expression was grave._

_“I believe we have just run out of time.”_

_…_

With one child safely over his shoulder, Gaster once again reached for the magic needed to teleport to the lab.   
But alas, it was too soon.

He grumbled in frustration, “I don't have time for this...”

Toriel nervously followed from behind, “What’s wrong?”

“My... reserves have decided to run out. I cannot teleport.” He pulled, willed for the destination, waited for the rush—then nothing.

_Damn it. Not now._

A quiet whimper elicited from the child slumped haphazardly over his shoulder; tiny fingers grasped rigidly onto the fabric of his coat.

Feebly readjusting the two fingers on the child's wrist, he frowned. If they waited any longer her heart might stop. And yet he was no closer to finding out what exactly was wrong with her.

“Can I do anything?” Toriel bit her lip, worried gaze shifting between Gaster and Frisk. “How much do you need?”

“Magic?” Not too much, about another eight minutes of waiting would do, but unfortunately time was not a variable they could spare. Perhaps they should just walk. “Don't worry, I will take the child on foot.”

Fixing his grip on the child slumped over his shoulder, he made his way towards the door.

Toriel stopped him, “Hold on,” a soft hand landed on his shoulder. Spinning around, he was then assaulted with a vast volume of green magic. Spluttering as his body lapped up the sustenance, Gaster leapt out of the storm of smoke and scowled up at her; it was akin to being gassed in a room full of deodorant. “Oops,” she chuckled coyly, “I have not provided another monster with my magic for a long time.”

“You…” he frowned, weary of the child still in his arms—right now she was the one in immediate danger. But from personal experience, magic deficit was perilous too.

“I apologise, your highness, but I must see to the child—”

“Don’t worry about it!” Toriel looked conflicted, “Please, just go! And that is an order!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With an appreciative nod, Gaster beckoned the overabundance of magic he now had and entered the familiar empty chasm between space and reality.

**...**

The moment his black boots hit the metal floor, Gaster charged through the main entrance, Frisk’s muffled cries resounding into his coat, swiftly catching the eye of a bewildered Sans.

“woah woah woah, _what the hell?”_ his distressed son pursued him and the unconscious child through the corridoes, “what happened? she was fine, she’s been with me all day!”

“No time for explanations,” he had to act fast. The child needed help and _now—_ the first step was to send her into the realm of unconsciousness. A couple of compatible medications came to mind, but there was no way Frisk was going to allow anyone to go anywhere near her with a syringe short of putting up a fight. “Sans, get me four vials of rupatadinemostim and a mask.”

Gaster rested the ashen child’s body on the worn grey table, her dishevelled hair omnidirectionally scattered across the modestly cushioned metal. “Stay awake, just for now.” He urged her, hands clamped around her face. “Stay with me, focus on my voice.”

Sans quickly trod back with the supplies, handing them over to Gaster resignedly with a lost expression upon his face. “here,” he approached the opposite end of Frisk’s bed, “hang in there buddy, you’re gonna be ok.”

Through half-lidded eyes, Frisk made a poor effort gripping to consciousness. Her gaze sluggishly drifted around the room, until finally landing on Sans and Gaster. It took a few moments, but eventually her weary mind made the connection.

She slurred as if intoxicated. “Yeew...pr’mised…”

Two fingers gently lifted the child’s jaw, smothering her clammy pallid face with a mask. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I refuse to have another death on my conscience,” he struggled to remain impassive at the hurt expression on Frisk’s face. “Take a deep breath.”

“Y’prom’ssed…”

Sans looked equally, if not _more so_ upset than the child. “do i even wanna know what you promised?”

Gaster’s expression grew dark. “I vowed that I was not going to do what I am about to do. However, I did say that if it gets worse I would intervene. And it has clearly become worse, thus, I am intervening.”

Frisk accidentally took a deep breath as to breathe out her next sentence, “Wan’ my mmm…mamma.”

Sans narrowed his eyes, “you want your ma?”

“Yeah… quick,” she breathed frantically, “Quick. Quick!”

“oh,” Sans blinked, glancing between Gaster and Frisk before shrugging, “ok.”

Wait— “ _Sans_ —!”

He disappeared.

Teleporting while intoxicated probably wasn’t a good idea.

Gaster scowled down at the child. “You know, even if your mother throws a tantrum towards me again, it won’t stop me from doing this.”

Frisk weakly grinned, “C’n still…try…” mischievous eyes soon shrunk into that of panic, “ _Wait_. St’p.”

Ah, the drug has finally decided to take effect. That took a while.

“It’s alright.”

“St’p, st’p,” the child began to rapidly inhale and exhale as if she were purposefully trying to make her pleading worse. “St’p. Don’ wan’ it.”

 _The quicker you breathe, the quicker it goes in,_ he wanted to say. But instead he watched and waited patiently.

“St’p. Pleeeease,” her eyes rolled around aimlessly in her head, desperately trying to fight the medication. Determination was going to be a problem in this scenario.

A blue flight flashed in the distance, somewhere within the various tangles of corridors. Then, as if on cue, it was followed by a woman’s voice.

“Oh, goodness. My child!”

Gaster sighed. _Not again._

“Mama?”

Toriel stormed into the room, hands smacking over her mouth and appearing conflicted between comforting her terrified child or completely losing her rag at the man before him.

“Mmmama, m-make him stop!”

Something in Gaster’s imaginary stomach twinged. It was nothing. Definitely not guilt.

“What on earth are you doing?” panicked eyes gave Frisk a once over, running her hands over the child until they reached her face. “What’s this?”

“I’m sedating her.”

“What?”

“he’s making her fall asleep.” Sans chided in, then grinned uneasily, “or trying to.”

Thus far it wasn’t going very well. Apparently the human’s determination was winning over a _drug_ , which was unheard of and quite frankly ridiculous. He had put his subjects to sleep before with no problem and right now a _child_ is somehow able to bypass it.

Toriel on the other hand looked enraged, “Dr Gaster, I am _ordering_ you to stop! You are quite evidently frightening her!”

“I thought you ordered me to save her? Either I save her life, or I don’t. Choose one.”

_I am going to regardless, but perhaps this will enlighten you to your petty display of insolence._

The queen took in a sharp breath of irritation, wholly conflicted. She whirled around to find Sans, offering an unsure eyebrow of confusion that just screamed _what do I do?_

Sans offered a quick false smile. “listen, i know it’s weird but i have to agree with pops on this one. he knows what he’s doing, and she can’t survive without it. but you can comfort her ‘til she gives up, or something.”

“I…I’m not sure if I…” Toriel hesitated, eyes furrowing when falling upon the child. “Alright…”

Silently, she stepped up to Frisk’s bedside, slipping a hand into Frisk’s own and forced a caring smile. “Hello, dear. Do not worry, I am here now.”

“M’ma,” Frisk murmured, clearly trying _so_ hard to fight off the medication, “Don’…wan’…this…”

“I know. I know you don’t.” she took hold of her other hand, squeezing them tightly. “Just focus on me, alright? It will be over soon.”

“But I dun’…” Frisk blinked sluggishly, every second becoming harder and harder to stay awake. It seemed as if she was finally losing the battle, a battle that was actually _okay_ to lose. Her breaths became shallower, evening out to soft, soothing breaths.

Until she wasn’t.

Eyes flying open, Frisk suddenly jerked awake, shooting upright on the table and attempting to reach past the man and his multitude of summoned hands struggling to keep her down. Well, there went the nice idea of putting her to sleep through a simple gaseous form.

“ _Get…off me!!”_ she squealed, her surprisingly strong arms shaking against his seven hands.

Wordlessly, Gaster pressed a hand to her forehead in an endeavour to get her to lay down.

“I said…get…off… _me!”_ To his utter astonishment, one of the child’s eyes flashed a vivid red, a glint in those dull fatigued eyes that he had never seen before.

_Is that…?_

_Could it be…?_

_Impossible…_

His curious expression morphed into that of disbelief, and immediately his focus shifted onto the one other factor the child denied him of.

“Show me your soul!” he ordered, one hand furiously attempting to manifest it from her ribcage. “ _Now!_ I will not ask you again!”

“Dr Gaster!”

“hey, c’mon g, that’s unnecessary...”

He disregarded them, “If this is what I think it is…”

The child heaved in another breath, visibly shaking as she tried to pry herself out of Gaster’s grasp. To her dismay, his hands were too strong and unrelenting—Moments later, Frisk let out a roar of fury, before chocolate eyes once again pinged briefly into bright red.

“what the hell…”

A scream pierced the air. **“ _Don’t…touch me!”_**

“Oh goodness…”

With a sense of sheer resolve newly ripping through his system, Gaster strode off to the back of the room, the multitude of hands remaining in place on the child’s writhing form.

“Qwwwick,” Frisk slurred, weakly pushing at the giant barriers of bone, “Get th’se off me!”

“I really do not think that’s a good idea, dear…”

Sifting through the various medications stored in the cabinet, Gaster picked out a vial of dark blue.

_Vareatadine._

_If I’m wrong about this, then…_

_No, I am right about this._

Confident, Gaster grasped the vial in one hand and snatched up a syringe in the other, returning to the child’s side. A sense of urgency filled in the air—he would need to dispose of his various hands any second now.

Ignoring the incredulous looks of Sans and Toriel, he shoved the syringe into the vial, filling the contents with blue liquid. Then, he tentatively approached the child. It probably looked quite menacing.

“No, stop!” Frisk jerked away, pulling and yanking but unfortunately all this fighting had made her weak. “Stop! Stop! No—no—no—”

“Shh,” Toriel hushed, stroking her hair, “I’m right here.” Gaster pressed down on the crook of her elbow, before piercing a syringe into it.

She screamed. Gaster wasn’t sure whether it was out of pure fear, or, if his hypothesis was incorrect—agony.

“What did you do?” Toriel’s eyes were panic-stricken, wide with fear, “What was that?”

Sans was staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost—clearly he knew what was in that.

“No…” Frisk whispered, her cries growing progressively softer, “No, no, no…you can’t…”

_Hmm._

_No adverse effects as of yet._

Convinced that he hadn’t just given the child a death sentence, he approached the head of the table.

Her eyes were like saucer plates, tears pooling up when she clearly realised she had lost this battle. The two scientists shared an understanding gaze, one that read _this child needs to be put out their misery right now._ Gaster fumbled upon the tray of equipment and slyly acquired another syringe and a white vial.

The two medications should be able to mix.

“It’s alright.” He promised her coolly, “I believe I know what’s wrong now,” hiding the device below the table and pushing down on the plunger, he watched the child carefully in case of her noticing his cunning plan.

“But…” her eyes fluttered shut, before immediately pinging open again. “Can’t…”

“You will find that I can.”

“Pleeessse…”

_If that sedative travels through the IV quicker, that would be ever so wonderful._

“It is a simple fix, if you were not so upset I would not have to resort to this.”

“I can…stop…upset?”

“Perhaps. But it’s too late now.”

“Why?”

_Just go to sleep, you ridiculous child._

“Because you are going to fall asleep very soon.”

Frisk blinked tiredly, her mind struggling to process his words. Her lips parted, as if about to say something, then closed them with a grimace. Gaster waited patiently.

“I…am…” she swallowed, “Scared.”

He thought he heard Toriel snivel in the background.

“I know. It’s alright.”

“Scared.”

“I know.”

“…Can…can…” she took in another large gulp of air, “Stop?”

“I can’t now. But it’s alright,” he repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time, “I promise you will not feel a thing.”

“But…”

Frisk’s words were left hanging in the air, eyes drooping shut as the unfinished plea left her mouth. Gaster waited for a moment, watching her closed eyes carefully, just in case.

She really was sound asleep.

And he was definitely correct with his hypothesis. Frisk’s soul contained magic.

With a sigh, he flicked a tired hand, all seven of the latter dissolving into thin-air.

“uh…if the kid’s safe,” Sans was still here. Oh. He had been unusually quiet. “…you mind if I sit out? i’m kinda…i need to sleep, heh.”

_Foolish intoxicated boy._

“If you wish.”

Toriel spoke up from behind him, “Is she…?”

“Sleeping, yes.”

_Finally._

“Oh,” there was newfound relief in the exhausted voice, “Do you really know how to fix it?”

“I do now.” With one hand placed over Frisk’s chest, he once again endeavoured to summon the stubborn red orb.

Despite his struggles previously, the determined soul manifested into his hands willingly, further proving his theory.

Somehow, for some reason, Frisk had gained the capacity to store magic in her soul. The vial was… admittedly not something Gaster ever thought he would use.

Usually it would kill his subjects—completely depleting the magic reserves within seconds to the point of dusting. But with Frisk, it may have just saved her life.

_Excellent._

Satisfied, he placed the equipment aside and headed back to his office to find his recorder.

_Not strictly **research,** but it was close enough. _

He depressed the start button.

“This entry is not strictly in the confines of my research, but extra knowledge that may prove useful in the future. At approximately 2:15—”

“ _GASTER!”_

…Oh.

Gaster couldn’t stride back into the room fast enough. The child that had apparently been cured and sleeping was now currently on the floor…fitting.

_Ah._

The queen was distressed as he sprinted over. “What’s happened? What on earth did you do?!”

Kneeling beside the shaking child, he pressed down firmly on her clavicle.

“ _S A N S!”_ Gaster yelled, hoping it would reach the small skeleton from his slumber, wherever he was in the building.

_What the hell is going on?_

The disturbance continued. “This is _your fault!_ I trusted you!” Toriel shrieked, torn between pacing and wanting to comfort the human. “She’s going to die and it’s your fault!”

“Perhaps it would be best if you left the room for now.”

She scoffed, “Me?! Leave the room!? Dr Gaster, I order you to leave this _town!_ Your crimes are wholly unacceptable and…and… _and…”_

…Right.

“May I remind you, she is not dead _yet.”_

“heya. what’s the—oh, shit.” a small skeleton scrambled into the room at surprisingly rapid speed, gaze shifting between the child and Toriel.

“Get me a vial of tropamesine, **_now_** _.”_

Sans managed move three steps away before Toriel’s arm suddenly impeded him from going further. “Do not, Sans. He is dangerous and I implore you not to—”

“jeez, lady, get out the way,” Sans shoved past, only to be dragged back by a tight grip on his hoodie. With an almost growl, a row of blue bones surfaced through the ground. Then without a word, the skeleton ran off to find the requested drug while Toriel gaped after him quizzically.

To his covert dismay, the child’s eyes flew open, her hands cramping as she tried to regain control, strange gurgling noises spluttering from her throat.

_She has magic?_

_She’s human. How is this possible?_

Terrified disbelieving eyes stared into him, pleading, confused. But there was nothing that could be done, not like this.

_I don’t understand…_

Mercifully, Sans returned with the vial, apparently taking it upon himself to administer the dose while Gaster continued to hold her still.

Finally, they reached a watershed. The shaking stopped, Frisk’s eyes shimmering a crimson red before dimming back to their dark brown again.

The human groaned quietly, as if testing whether she had regained control of her body yet. When she were successful, she groaned even louder, this time a mix of both desperation and panic. A confused tearful whine escaped her lips, resembling that of a question.

“hey, you’re ok,” Sans slipped his free hand into Frisk’s in an attempt to grab her attention, “you’re ok. look at me, you’re ok.”

She shook her head, still producing spluttering noises as if choking on something.

“what? kid, i don’t understand, what are you—”

Frisk raised an arm, the tips of her fingers glowing the same bright red her eyes were.

_That is… concerning._

“oh, damn. what the hell is that?”

“I cannot even begin to explain, but somehow, the human has magic.”

“magic? like…mine?”

“Yes.”

She gurgled again, as if informing them that yes, she was still suffering, and yes, she couldn’t breathe, but they seemed to be too invested in their newfound revelation.

“you've messed up big time, g.”

Gaster glowered at the ground.

_Yes, I know._

Fatigued brown eyes became unfocused, her rapid wheezing fading out, becoming softer, and softer…until it stopped.

Sans was the first to notice.

“kid? hey,” he tapped her cheek, receiving no response as her eyes up rolled into white. “frisk? kiddo!”

“hey hey hey, c’mon, don’t do this, stay with me,” he jostled her shoulder, desperate for a reply, but the child remained motionless. With an indescribable feeling in his gut, Gaster poised two fingers over her neck. It was weak and fluctuating rapidly, but it _did_ mean…

“She’s alive, but in respiratory failure,” Gaster pressed his mouth into a thin line—why is magic causing her body such distress? It made no sense.

Humans had magic a long _long_ time ago—there were wizards. But they hadn’t exist for a millennia. And somehow, for some reason… Frisk was manifesting it back.

That was an investigation for another time. Right now, the child was in respiratory distress.   
The tirade of broken promises filled the forefront of his mind.

_Looks like I’m doing this after all._

_Although I have never done this to a human before…_

“Unfortunately, our only option now is to intubate,” he strode to the back of the room to find equipment he hadn’t needed to use for decades. Here’s hoping the knowledge has retained.

This human was _not_ dying.

“oh, right. damn, that’s…serious? can’t you just give her another drug?”

“I have given her three different drugs and now she isn’t breathing.”

“oh.”

“Time is of the essence. Humans require oxygen; find a tank.”

“ok.”

No doubt this was going to be very hard for his son. Not physically, but emotionally, perhaps…

Good thing he never becomes attached to anyone……

**...**

It was happening again.

The vision in front of her—a sick child laying in bed on the brink of death, the ominous looks on the faces of the monsters that swore could save them.

The child dying the next day.

And now…

Frisk was heading down that same path. The only thing the de-ja-vu had to do to complete it’s cycle was for the child to die.

It had been a millennia since Chara died.

And part of Toriel’s mind was thankful for it. Because now… a day had passed, and Frisk was still alive.

_Just._

It was still a horrible sight. She was lying flat in bed, deathly pale, her chest rising and falling only because of the adjacent equipment, a multitude of wires and tubes weaving out in numerous directions (which was not in the memory of Chara’s last moments by any means…) and she couldn’t even begin to understand what any of the devices did.

Just that technology had moved on and had kept her child alive for a little longer this time.

Toriel was so mesmerized by the form of her second dying human child and the rhythmic beeping of instruments that she almost didn’t notice Sans approaching from behind.

“hey tori. don’t think you should be in here.”

It took her a moment to reply. “…Yes. I…” she forced herself to look away from the unconscious figure, meeting the young scientist’s eye. “I didn’t realise it would be this bad, my friend.”

Sans scoffed sardonically, “yeah, well. that makes two of us.”

The friends shared a moment of silence together, before Toriel asked what had been on her mind for the past hour.

“Is…is that,” she pointed at the tubing winding down Frisk’s mouth, “Is that coming out soon?”

It was awful to look at…

“well, uh,” the skeleton fidgeted with his hoodie laces uncomfortably, “not _soon._ she needs it to breathe. and uh, she isn’t doing so well at it.”

“But why not?” Toriel didn’t understand. Why was…it like this? What happened?

“from what I understand, the kid has magic now. like, human magic. my old man assumed it was an accident, something to get rid of,” his eyes focused intently on the child, “turns out her soul now requires it just as much as ours do. soo, when he got rid of it, uh…”

She nodded. “It was like removing a vital organ.”

“yeah, kinda. so, we’re waiting for it to replenish itself,” he nodded towards the tubes, “until then, she’s stuck on that.”

“I see…” It was an awful turn of events. This also did not explain why she was suffering in the first place. As far as she could tell, the head scientist only made things a hundred times worse. In fact… “Where is Dr Gaster?”

“he’s gone home to check on pap.”

“Oh. I see.”

_I wonder how he is doing? Being home alone for all this time?_

_Actually, come to think of it…_

“My friend, have you had anything to eat?”

“yeah. uh…” he paused, “actually, no. but its ok, m’ not hungry.”

Well, that was not surprising. It was hard to eat while anxious.

Had _anyone_ eaten during the past few days…?

**...**

_Failure._

_Failure._

_FAILURE._

All these experiments were failures and he was no closer to an answer.

Just _what_ was the reason for human magic making a comeback, and why had it… _infected_ Frisk of all people? Was it dangerous? Was _monsterkind_ in danger?

But most of all, what was wrong with the child in the first place? Magic was prominent in humans many years ago and evidently that didn’t bring the entirety of humankind to their knees. So… why was Frisk acting in such a way?

At first, he had tried collecting a sample of her magic before she woke up, using the computers to create a scenario in which the substance would react to a human soul. But nothing happened. It worked as it should, therefore it was pure untainted determination magic.

In fact, as if the very thought of the aforementioned child had given her newfound mindreading telepathic abilities, approaching footsteps pattered through the hallway behind the lab door…

The child burst into his office, hanging loosely from the doorknob and twitching.

“Am mu-mu-m-muh-muh-"

_What on earth do they think they are doing?_

Shooting up from his seat, Gaster noted the child's legs wobbling against the door frame.

“Mmmm-muh-muh-muh...mmm...” he reached the door in two strides, catching the child just as her shaky legs collapsed.

“What are you doing?” he ushered, flinging the child over his shoulder and looking for a spot to put her.

“Muh-mah-muh-mag-mag-"

“Magic?”

“Y-y-yes, ummm...”

Placing her on his office chair, he took inventory of her face. Pale, clammy, same as before.

_I preferred it when she was unconscious._

“W-w-w I w-wanna tell you something...” She looked intoxicated. Then she coughed.

“Yes?”

“I... muh...Magic.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He tried not to laugh, “This would have been useful to know three weeks ago, but thank you for telling me.”

Frisk leaned forward like a toddler trying to grab their toy. “Look!” an eye flickered between brown and red, before settling on the latter. She giggled, stopping halfway when something caught in her throat, coughing again.

“Yes, I believe you. Determination magic.”

“Yes!”

Here was the question of the hour. “What are you doing here?”

Surely after what had just happened the child should be _avoiding_ him, not actively seeking him out and bragging about the very thing he wanted to experiment with.

She broke out into a lopsided grin, “M’hungry.”

Gaster blinked. “You are… hungry.”

“Yes!” another cough.

“…You did not think to ask your mother for food?”

“I wanted to, but you said she wasn’t allowed back in your lab ever again!”

Ah. He almost forgot about the near hysteria he had while dealing with the fallout of the past week.

Now himself and Sans were looking after—no— _babysitting_ the child.

“Soooo?”

“So?”

“ _I’m hungry!”_ she shrieked at irritatingly elevated volumes.

“I am sure Sans can find you something.” He is obsessed with appalling amounts of junk food after all.

Frisk seemed slightly disheartened but stood up from the chair and staggered towards the office door. “M’kay.”

“Wait.” He shut his eyes in exasperation, before spinning around to face her, “Come here.”

“Kay.” She waddled over quite happily.

“How’s your throat?” Obviously not very good.

She touched her neck as if she forgot it was there, then beamed, “It’s much better!”

“Do you think me a fool?”

Frisk’s eyebrows furrowed, “No. It just feels better…”

“Does it?”

“Mmm… yeah…”

“So you find coughing entertaining?”

A very devious grin suspiciously similar to Sans’ formed upon her face, “Very fun!”

_…Patience…_

“Come here,” he found himself saying again, the child being close but still sceptically distant. Completely unsurprising and quite frankly expected.

Craning her head to the side in conflict, she hummed before taking a cautious step forward, hesitant worry in her eyes. Clearly it wasn’t a good idea to get any closer yet, despite how joyful she initially seemed. So, he made his observation from a distance.

Still very red, possibly swollen. To be honest, she shouldn’t even be walking yet. Frisk should be asleep in bed surrounded by get well soon cards, toys and non-existent family, watching TV, reading and not being up and about traversing the lab in search for food.

But it was Frisk. It would be foolish to assume she would behave anywhere near to that concept.

_Although, I suppose…_

“Do you want your jumper back?”

Suddenly life flashed back into her eyes.

“Yes! Where’zit?” her voice was still worryingly hoarse; Gaster frowned while he surveyed the room in search for the item of clothing.

The blue and purple jumper was definitely hanging around here somewhere…

He was no more than five seconds into his search before the child piped up about something completely unrelated. “When…I can…see Sans?”

_What has that got anything to do with…_

“Whenever you like.” Gaster spotted the fuzzy sweater neatly deposited on a work bench.

“So now? Grillbys?”

“You want to go to Grillbys?” Would that not be bad for her throat? “That may not be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

_Do I really have to spell it out?_

“For one, your glands are inflamed, and your throat is _red._ Eating junk food may not be the best course of action right now. _”_

“But you were telling me to do it just now! You said… you said Sans could find me something!” she winced as her voice raised in volume, a clear sign that he was correct with his initial theory.

Gaster whipped up the pile of blue and pink, deftly shoving it over the child’s head. “I said you could find him, I did not suggest going to Grillbys.”

_I would never suggest going to Grillbys._

Frisk put on a big sulky face, wriggling contentedly in her cozy little sweater. The other scientist skilfully whipped the back of a hand against her forehead and away again in seconds.

_Hmm._

“Okay… so what if he brings me back something?”

“That is still…” he sighed—this child was going to be the death of him. “Only one item of choice.”

She grinned, “Okay! Only one! Thanks!”

Gaster didn’t notice he was frowning until Frisk’s smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

He spoke quickly. “Nothing.”

“You’re all sad.”

“I am not _sad.”_

“You’re doing that frowny thing again!”

The human and child stared at each other incredulously for a while, before Gaster flapped his hand with a sigh and wandered off. Not very far considering three steps away was a wall. “Very well. Go with Sans and do what you want. But don’t come crying to me when it starts to hurt.”

A bundle of blue and pink jumped around in circles behind him. Thank heavens he was staring at a wall and didn’t have to bear witness to the embarrassment that was the child.

“Cool, thanks! It’ll be awesome! I-do you want anything?”

_“No.”_

“Okay!”

Seconds later, the door slammed shut. Finally at peace once more, Gaster dragged an exasperated hand down his face.

_I’m so tired…_

The child still had a fever, which was odd. She had been running around happily like any healthy child and wanted to eat grease. Maybe it was something to do with soul magic… there’s so much he didn’t know.

_Perhaps Sans should be aware of this._

He picked up the phone.

* * *

........

ooh he picked up the phone what a cliffhanger _lmao_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk decides to go on a jaunt across the town in the middle of the night, which of course brings consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I come with another chapter! 
> 
> If there was one sentence that could sum up this chapter it would be: god damn it frisk.
> 
> >:)

_“Cool, thanks! It’ll be awesome! I-do you want anything?”_

_“No.”_

_“Okay!”_

_Seconds later, the door slammed shut. Finally at peace once more, Gaster dragged an exasperated hand down his face. The child still had a fever, which was odd. She had been running around happily like any healthy child and wanted to eat. Maybe it was something to do with soul magic… there’s so much he didn’t know._

_Perhaps Sans should be aware of this. He picked up the phone._

**_..._ **

“Maybe we should bring Gaster along!”

Sans snorted abhorrently loudly.

“my pops? to Grillbys?”

_this is it. the kid has finally lost it._

“Yeah!”

“uh…” he chuckled nervously, “why?”

“Because he’s always really sad and miserable and wants to be alone all the time.”

If his laugh beforehand were loud, this one disturbed the next four neighbourhoods.

Inhaling sharply, Sans rolled his eyes, “...yeeaah, he really is, isn’t he? heheh.”

“It's sort of sad...”

“yeah?” he stopped walking to focus his attention on the kid. “hey, don't let him get ya down, alright? he's always like this, you can’t save him,” with a mournful exhale, the young scientist shook his head and continued walking. “believe me, paps and i already tried.”

“He's being annoying again,” Frisk sulked, kicking a lone rock across the dirt floor, “Keeps checking on me and thinks I’m gonna die or something.”

“well... can you blame him? after what happened?” It was an awfully traumatic event for everyone involved after all.

“Mmm...” She came across the same rock, kicking it forward again, “But he watches my every move. I hate it.”

“heh, that’s just my old man for you,” he chuckled, ruffling the kid's hair. “’sides, he told me you weren’t feeling too hot.”

“See! It’s so annoying!”

“that's what I'm like with paps. guess that's where I got it from.”

“But you're not mean!”

Sans sighed, stretching his aching neck as they walked. “look, just humour him. he'll calm down eventually.”

Judging by the expression on the kid's face... she didn’t believe him. Oh well.

“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked instead, rubbing her hands on her baggy brown trousers.

“somewhere that isn’t Grillbys?” Sans chuckled; going elsewhere would be an adventure. “what ya have in mind?”

Frisk’s fingers curled into fists, an unknown frustration gnawing at her patience.

_ok…_

“what about the park? you like it there right?” he watched as Frisk’s eyes unfocused, almost as if she had fallen asleep standing, before just as fast the life returned to them, throwing him an approving glance.

“Yeah, the park. Okay! Can we bring the others?”

Sans’ eyebrows furrowed further down his ever-frowning face, “yeah…yeah i can bring the others. lets go, we’ll meet ‘em there.”

Frisk nodded, physically beginning to skip down the road before abruptly halting. She snickered, muttering something under her breath before continuing her stroll in front of him.

“what’s so funny?” he grinned, unable to find the energy in him to accelerate any faster than his current sluggish walking pace.

“Nothiiiing!” she chortled with a mischievous smile. Sans snorted.

“uh-huh? you’re a bad liar, you know that?”

“Hey Sans?”

Vacant eyes looked up from his phone, “yeah?”

“Can I ask something?”

“…yeah?”

“Have you ever… not been able to teleport somewhere?”

… _huh._

“what’d you mean?”

Frisk’s eyebrows shot up. “Um… like…” she stopped walking, waiting for her friend to catch up. Sans paused. “I mean, like… you know, hahah…”

“spit it out, kiddo.”

“Is there anything that stops you from teleporting?”

“that’s a weird question to ask.”

Her hands flew up, “I’m just curious! I wanna know more about how it works!”

“uhh…”

_kinda weird, but… guess if she has magic now and is curious about it, then…_

“i mean, if i run out of magic i can’t use it, but that’s obvious. we don’t know if it’s the same for you.”

“Oh…” the kid looked…disappointed? “Is there anything else?”

“not that i know of?”

“Oh, ok,” she paused, in thought for a second, “Can you… actually never mind. Come on move faster!”

_…ugh._

“moving faster isn’t on my agenda, sorry.”

“Wow, you big…I mean _little_ loser!”

“hey!” he snickered, shoving the kid aside, “watch it!”

With a joyous laugh, the kid merrily set off down the dirt path in a sprint. Just the sheer action of looking at the energetic child made him want to curl up in bed and sleep for three days. While she ran off into the distance, doing what a kid _should_ be doing, Sans slumbered on from behind, awaiting the imminent rowdy arrival of the rest of his friends.

She got about as far as the nearest tree before she stopped, leaning against the tall oak wood. Assuming the worst, once again Sans had a generous boost of adrenaline to the legs and found himself miraculously running up to the lone tree. The kid, however, didn’t seem to notice him.

Approaching Frisk under the shadow of a large willow tree, he set a hand on her shoulder to give notice of his presence. “hey bud. you’re looking pretty tired. wanna go home?”

“Sans, I...” She breathed quietly, freezing up and swaying back and forth.

He was ready for what was about to happen. “you ok?”

“I don't feel...so…” Frisk pitched sideways, hands frantically waving around before keeling over into Sans’ embrace. She wheezed, knees jelly as the world tipped onto it's side.

“whoa, okay, easy, easy, i got you,” _god_ , _not again_ … “it's alright. _damn it_.” he huffed irritably, “i _knew_ something was wrong.”

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” she exhaled, shaky hands grasping his wrist for support while the other clutched her shirt. “That was just weird. I’m… I’m good now.”

“you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” she forced a smile, “I’m good. Sorry.”

_hell._

“y’know, maybe we should sit down,” the grass was beginning to appear more like an appealing carpet as the seconds progressed, “it’s not been long since you—”

“I don’t want to—let’s keep going, okay? It’s not that far now.”

“ok…”

“Sans! Human!”

_great timing, paps._

Sans’ taller, livelier brother came bounding over, accompanied by Undyne and Alphys, his red scarf blowing vigorously in the wind. Well, looking on the bright side, at least this was a nice distraction from reality.

“Hey everyone,” Alphys chuckled, her expression slightly agitated, though that wasn’t unusual for the creature. “L-Long-time no see!”

“Brother, I brought some friends, just like you asked!”

“hey bro, alph, undyne,” he couldn’t help but notice the gap where a missing person should be. “where’s tori?”

“Oh, yes,” Papyrus tightened his scarf and smiled warmly at Frisk, who was putting on an obvious façade, “Miss Toriel is at the school, I asked if she wanted to come but she said she can’t. I will never understand why she wants to work instead of play with us at the park!”

Sans snorted. “because, pap, when you’re working you can’t just wander off to play games whenever you feel like it.”

Papyrus wore a roguish grin. “But that’s what you do!”

_touché._

“well, luckily for everyone else, tori ain’t me.”

Undyne’s voice cut through the conversation like a knife blade. “Can we get going already?! I’m _bored!!”_ Apparently in agreement, Frisk spun around and smirked at the impatient creature, tugging on her coat. “Yeah! Fine! While you idiots talk, me and the kid are gonna fight it out!”

She summoned a big blue spear, aiming it menacingly yet playfully at the excited child. Though, they couldn’t be too careful…

“not too much, fish lady. go easy on the kid, she’s still recovering.” Frisk looked slightly disappointed at his request, although Undyne’s fortitude didn’t waver.

“Oh yeah? Well I’ll push them to the very edge! NGAAHH!” and the two of them set off, Alphys sprinting behind with a “ _W-wait for me, guys!”_

With a sigh, Sans shook his head and slumped down against the oak tree, not in the mood whatsoever to join in with their weird games. The only reason he tagged along was to watch the kid, and it somehow turned into a family reunion…without the parents.

Papyrus, however, still hadn’t moved, which was odd.

“Are you alright, brother?” he asked instead, worryingly distracted from the fun that was going on from behind.

Sans dismissed him, “yeah, yeah. sorry. too tired to do anything today.”

“You are always tired, Sans!” Papyrus shouted, a hint of teasing in his tone. “You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me!” His bro was always so nice. Sans smiled.

_damn that kid for wriggling their way into my soul. can’t stop worrying._

_is this what my pops feels like?_

“go play with ‘em, pap. i’m gonna nap here.”

Papyrus’ grin morphed into something akin to a frown, before seemingly he gave in. “Okay! Well, remember what I said!!” and with that, he ran after the other three with a _nyeh heh heh!_

Now finally on his own, Sans exhaled all the tension in his body, fiddling idly with the strings hanging from his hoodie.

_damn that kid._

Frustrated but equally tired, he pulled the hood up and over his head, huddling up against the tree. Who cares if he fell asleep alone while they had fun together? That wasn’t sad or anything…

… _heh._

**_..._ **

Somehow, within the depths of his deep sleep, his mind must have still been attuned to his surroundings, as they pulled out the trigger word from distant conversation and dragged him back to awareness.

_“Frisk?”_

_“Human!!”_

_“Frisk??”_

Ugh. Why were they shouting? Sure, the kid was a concern right now, but did his mind _really_ have to wake him up because they were shouting her name?

_“Frisk!! Where are you!!”_

_shut up. play hide and seek quietly._

_how can you even lose her? it’s a damned open field._

… wait.

“Frisk!”

Opening his eyes, Sans glanced around the lush green park for the person of interest. Everyone could be easily spotted except Frisk.

…Was she missing? Or was he overreacting? Were they playing a game?

He observed Undyne chatting skittishly with Alphys, their voices unheard.

“pap!!” he shouted from the floor, unable to summon the energy it took to stand. Papyrus recognised his voice instantly and came bounding over like a puppy returning with a stick.

“Sans!” Papyrus had worry written all over his face. Damn. “The human has vanished!!”

The small skeleton blinked vacantly. “… vanished?”

“Yes!!”

“how can she…” he paused. _What?_ “how can the kid vanish? did you see where she ran off to?”

Papyrus drew his mouth into a thin line, “I… we didn’t see her run, brother. We just turned around and she was gone!”

… _oh shit._

could it be …? the questions she was asking earlier about magic…?

He gaped. “uhh…”

“This is perfect for Undyne, she has gone to search for the human! But little does she know that I, the Great Papyrus, am even better at searching for humans! I did find her first, after all!!”

“yeah, you sure did.”

“Then it’s settled! I will find her!! Nyeh!!” Papyrus turned round and ran away like a man on a mission.

Sans wasn’t sure whether to panic or laugh. Frisk was either playing a very mean game of hide and seek or her magic was much more advanced than he first thought.

Dragging his fatigued body upright, Sans took off down the opposite path his friends were playing around.

Papyrus called from behind, “Brother, where are you going?”

_where does it look like i’m going?_

“to find the kid,” he called back, not bothering to look behind. There was a brief pause as Papyrus supposedly processed his words.

“But wouldn’t she be here? The human is probably hiding behind a tree or something!”

Judging by her behaviour earlier… “somehow i doubt that.”

He heard Undyne shout something incoherent, and Papyrus’ muffled reply, but he was too far out of hearing range to understand what was being said. Allegedly they were talking about Sans’ spontaneous jolly trip to find the unruly child.

Strolling further down the path and becoming more and more frustrated with himself for letting her go— _why did he ever think it was a good idea to let her go? —_ he soon stumbled upon the park entrance. _would she leave the park?_

… _this is ridiculous._

“Hey! Bonehead!”

Sans spun around to the source of the voice, surprised to see Undyne jogging up. Wasn’t she supposed to be throwing spears?

“hey, what’s up?”

Undyne grinned, “You called us over to hang out and as soon as we arrived, you left?!”

_sigh._

“the kid went missing. so. i’m looking for her.” A very candid and blunt cover of the truth, but it’ll do.

“Yeah? Well so am I! Why are you so worried? She’s a kid! They do that, right?”

“yeah, but… i’m worried.”

“Why?”

“because…” Sans took a deep breath… should he admit he messed up? “she nearly passed out again earlier but i let her go and now she’s missing.”

As expected, Undyne glared at him, her expression sour, “You did _WHAT!?”_

“yup.”

Undyne continued to stare at the guilty skeleton in mute disbelief.

He grinned sheepishly with a shrug, taking a step back from the riled fish lady _just in case._ Fish lady, however, shook her head, nudging Sans forward with a disgruntled mumble of quiet profanity.

“Lets look together. I don’t want to worry Alph and I don’t think Papyrus will take it very well either.”

He nodded, “yeah, but, what i told you, keep it between us, ok?”

“Yeah,” Undyne sighed, “Okay. Move it, bonehead.”

**_..._ **

By the time the sky fell to a light shade of pink and the sun disappeared under the hill’s horizon, neither monster thought they would ever be out this late, stuck with each other and looking for the missing child.

Yet here they were. Quite frankly, they didn’t know where else to _look_. And to add insult to injury, it had also started to _rain._

Both monsters had gone from a determined adventure across the land to a defeated gravel-kicking slump, rain soaking into their clothes and essentially giving up now.

Undyne stopped the small skeleton from walking any further. “Uhh… look, we’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Sans’ voice was small. “i know.”

“I’m gonna call Alph, see if she has any clues. She’s used to watching them anyhow, haha.”

“yeah.”

“You… you should go home, Sans.”

There was a dark shadow upon the skeleton’s face, and it wasn’t the lack of sun. “if something happened to her…”

Undyne sighed, shutting her eyes in exasperation. “You’re overreacting.”

“no, i’m pretty sure im right. damn, this is my fault…”

“Hey, no, you idiot, look,” Undyne slammed two hands on his rain-drenched shoulders, “This is _not_ your fault. No-one could have predicted that stupid child would just run off like that.”

“ _no,_ you don’t understand, there’s something… _fishy_ about this. heh.”

Undyne snorted, “Puns? Really? Right now?”

He shrugged, “hey, i’m trying.” Manoeuvring his shoulders away from her grasp, he continued, “between you and me, the kid has magic now.”

Undyne’s pupils grew exponentially larger.

“ _yeah_ , yeah i know. weird, right? but anyways. my pops warned me she wasn’t looking too good. that was the first red flag. then i saw her wiping her hands on her clothes ‘cause she was sweating so much. i ignored that. then she practically collapsed before you guys arrived. i let her go after that too. and now she’s missing, and i have no idea whether she’s being dumb, she’s done something stupid, she ran away, she’s scared, she got injured, she’s dying, she’s _already dead,_ she—”

“ _Calm down_ , dude. She’s a little fighter, you know that. After all, she got away from _me_!”

Sans gnashed his teeth together- “yeah, i _know._ i know. i just can’t help but think…”

“ _Go home_ ,” Undyne urged him again, physically turning him the opposite direction. “Get some rest, come back tomorrow.”

_Looks like I’m going home then._

“Well go on then!” Undyne elbowed him light-heartedly, “Do you need me to _walk you!?”_

“nah, i’m good.”

He summoned the attention of his magic and disappeared in a flurry of blue.

**_..._ **

When the curtains of the void drew back and revealed the safe haven that was his home, the first thing he did was head straight to the bathroom.

Briefly aware and ensuring that he was the only one in the house, he almost didn’t make it to the sink fast enough when he emptied his stomach contents into it.

_ok, calm down. jeez._

He took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when he stomach squirmed and attempted to revolt again.

_god damn it this is my fault. i’ve killed the fucking kid._

_this is what happens when you’re so lazy. and negligent._

And again. He spluttered, staring at the tainted porcelain as if he were seeing things.

The door slowly squeaked open.

“Sans?”

_crap._

Hands were on him in an instant, turning him around to face his father who _apparently_ had been hiding in the walls.

“heya pops,” he grinned sheepishly, before turning back around and throwing up once more.

_it’s ok, i deserve this._

“What’s the matter?” a hand landed on his shoulder again, but this time didn’t try to turn him around. “Are you ill?”

Sans snorted. “nah. guess im just weak.” His stomach heaved again, a horrible nausea rising in his throat, but nothing came out. He sighed shakily.

“Then what is this?”

Sans shrugged half-heartedly. “dunno. it’s ok though, i’m a huge fuck up and i deserve this.”

At that, the hands pulled him back around, sat him on a nearby lonesome dusty bench, and forced the unwilling skeleton to look up at his father.

“Talk to me.”

“it’s nothing.”

“It clearly is,” his father nearly laughed with incredulity, “What’s happened?”

“i fucked up.”

“What did you do?”

“don’t want to talk about it.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

“you can help by leaving me alone.”

“I am not leaving you like this.”

“just _get out!_ you’re making me feel worse.”

“That may be so. I am trying to help.”

“i don’t care!...”

…The father and son remained in tense silence. Sans fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt, deftly ignoring the other man when he cleared his throat.

_god…_

“i lost the kid.”

A brief pause.

“It happens. She may have gone to her mother’s house.”

“no, you don’t understand,” Sans finally broke eye contact with the floor and looked up at Gaster. “she nearly passed out. she was sweating and shaking and i… freaking went to sleep.”

The next pause was longer. Sans dropped his gaze to the floor.

“When did she go missing?”

“dunno. like seven hours ago.”

Finally, the other man didn’t reply.

A tightness wrapped around his throat, squeezing his chest. Heaviness throbbed through his skull. Finally, a sob escaped his mouth. That was all it took for the floodgates to open.

 _oh god…_ he sobbed into his arm. _oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—”_

He heard distant footsteps draw closer, a presence at his feet.

“Sans—”

“—i fucked up.”

“Breathe. Calm down—”

“—i fucked up, fucked up so bad, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead—”

“Calm down, this is not your fault.”

“—it is. it’s my fault. it’s my fault, it’s—” he threw up again. “ugh… oh god… oh g—” and again. Wordlessly, a comforting hand rested on his shoulder, fingers kneading into his hoodie as Sans continued to retch.

Sharply inhaling, his lungs wanted more air than he could offer. He continued to gag, vision blurring into watery pools of panic.

“th-this is my fa-fa-fault,” he stuttered, warm tears uncomfortably wetting his face as he sharply inhaled again. Said breath caught in his throat, his eyes growing wide. Desperately sucking in air, he ducked away from the sink and tried to crawl across the room, for some reason. “i can’t- i can’t- i-can’t-br-br-br-bre—”

He waited for his father’s useless throwaway reply of ‘breathe’ or ‘it’s not your fault’, but instead two hands roughly grasped him under the arms, the world tilting on its axis before he found himself on his side. The other man’s face was completely impassive, aside from the clear worry etched into his eyes. He gagged.

“Look at me.”

“no—” Sans didn’t want to look at him. What if he threw up again?

“Look at me, Sans. Look at me.” Hands were all over him.

He shook his head.

“ _Look at me, child.”_

Sans looked at him.

“I know you do not believe me, but this is not your fault. The human has magic, I can find her through a surface scan, assuming she is still up here. As far as we know, she is the only human with magic capabilities, it will not be hard to find.”

It took a moment for his words to process through his panicked mind, but eventually he found himself able to breathe again. It was only then that he noticed the fingers still kneading his shoulder, trying in vain to get him to calm down.

A horrible thought resurfaced to the forefront of his mind. “what if she’s de-de-dead?”

“Determined souls can live again, can they not? If she were deceased, we would not be here right now.”

_…oh._

_right._

After a long pause, Sans chuckled darkly. “you know…now you say it, it does kinda make sense. heheh—” he hiccupped, breaths attempting to return to normal.

“Yes,” the prior worry gradually left the older man’s eyes, “We know that she is alive, only missing.”

“ok.” Sans breathed, relief filling his deprived chest, “ok…”

The two monsters watched each other in silence for a moment, embarrassment slowly creeping into Sans’ mind as the reality of what just happened began to hit.

“sorry.”

Gaster pursed his mouth into a thin line. “There is nothing to apologise for.”

_i know._

_ugh…_

“I will leave you to recover, for now,” he began to stand from his kneeling position, tentatively leaving Sans’ side, “Find me in the downstairs lab when you are ready. I shall endeavour to find this child.”

Sans nodded, sighing shakily to himself, head pounding from the ordeal.

_well, that sure was something._

_**...** _

“heh, you care about the kid, don’t you?” he smirked from his work desk, “she's wormed her way into your cold empty heart.”

Gaster scowled, “She has done no such thing.”

“c'mon, a year ago you wanted her gone and you hated each other. now you actually _care.”_

“That is not true. I care about you and Papyrus.”

“and the kid.”

“She freed monsterkind, I believe everyone admires her in some way.”

“g, she had a literal seizure and you refused to take her to a hospital. you tried to fix it yourself.”

“Avoiding the hospital was necessary. I don’t trust them.”

He grinned. “oh yeah?”

“Yes. The human has magic now. Humans cannot find out about this, she is the only one. It can only be speculated what they would do in reaction to this.”

“oh...” he had a point. But still. “take her to a monster hospital?”

Gaster glowered, staring daggers into his mischievous son.

“just admit it, you care about the well-being of a _human.”_

“Get back to work, Sans.”

“yeah yeah,” he snorted, “whatever you say.’

Running low on optimism, Sans scanned the penultimate section of New Town, the last remaining part of town that ran perilously close to the exit. This town was the safest you could get for monsters, ruled over by Toriel and Asgore.

A red light flashed across the right side of the giant screen. Sans bolted towards it, analysing the location.

“here! here, she’s here,” he announced, pointing a finger at the glowing red circle. “damn, right on the border. the hell is she doing over there?”

The much larger hand of his father grazed beside his, observing the pinpoint location. “Hmm.”

“hmm?” Why oh why was his father incapable of articulate speech? Fingers flew across the control panel, until multiple other red dots appeared. Gaster peered in closer.

“what is it?”

“I believe…” he drew back with a breathy sigh, “She has been in that location for the past four hours.”

“she’s…” Sans blinked, the gravity of his words hitting him, “four _hours?”_

That likely meant she hadn’t gone on a jaunt across town, but was incapacitated and had been lying there for four whole hours. 

Sans paled. This was probably as bad as his mind had imagined it. To his side, he vaguely acknowledged a hand grasp his wrist before he was thrown into the chasm of nothingness.

**_..._ **

It was still raining. The smell of musty air and the fresh rain of petrichor invaded his nostrils.

They found her on her back, fitting on the grassy ground surrounded by puddles of bright red. It was dripping from her eyes and through her fingertips, not to mention the dry stains of vomit clustered around the corners of her mouth.

_no no no no no…_

Both father and son ran over, scraping to their knees beside her and ripping open the medkit, the damp grass seeping through their clothes.

Sans was at a loss, frozen rigid at the helpless sight of his friend. “why is... why is this happening?”

Gaster tore his gaze away from the medkit and met Sans with a scowl. “Magic exertion. This can happen with untrained children when it goes too far.”

Sans shuddered, smoothing Frisk's drenched hair back. “so she’s really like us now then. how are you staying so calm?”

“She can overuse magic, yes,” he flipped Frisk onto her side. “As for your question, do you not remember?”

“remember?” he snivelled, shrugging, “remember what?”

“When you were a boy and first manifested magic.”

“no...?”

Frisk’s shaking stopped, a small whine escaping her lips as a needle withdrew from her neck.

“Ah. Well, it was a similar event to this, although not as extreme.”

“oh,” he didn’t recall any of this from his childhood, “that’s bad.”

That explains why none of this happened to Papyrus. Sans was the oldest and the guinea pig.

“Indeed.” Gaster reasserted his focus onto the child, “Human, if you hear me, squeeze my hand.”

Two tiny fingers slowly wrapped around the older skeleton’s index finger, another whine emitting from her voice.

“Good.”

“what now?”

“Once her magic has regained stability then we will go back to the lab.”

And so, the two skeletons waited awkwardly on top of a hill, the sky pitch blank surrounded by the sound of rain.

“umm... hey, pops?”

“Yes?”

“that thing you said earlier, about when i was younger... does that have anything to do with why I only have 1HP?”

“...Yes.”

_...oh._

“heh, uh... what happened?”

Gaster blew out a heavy breath, clearly not one for reminiscing.

“Your extensive magic output manifested when you were nine. Papyrus was around six or seven at the time. You got over excited, exerted yourself... burned down the house.”

Sans blinked. “what.”

_i don’t remember any of that._

“You nearly died. Thankfully, you were left in my expertise and survived, although with one remaining health point.”

“and pap?”

“Papyrus was the one that called me from my work. He got you out the house too, but you were dying. The fire was collateral damage.”

“im... sorry.”

“Don't be, you were a child, and I should have trained you to control it earlier. I did not make the same mistake twice.”

_yeah. pap came out ok. im the weak one._

“Nghh…”

The child groaned, a hand slowly attempting to reach her chest. Emphasis on _attempting._

“hey kid,” Sans ruffled her hair, “how you feelin’?”

She whined again, clutching the flimsy edge of her coat. It was hard to see anything while it was this dark, but Gaster quickly nudged her arm away, tugging the coat off to better see what was going on.

“Mmmghh!” she squealed, legs beginning to kick frantically away from the man. At least she was becoming more lucid.

“Calm.” His father ordered, trying again to pull aside her coat, gently lifting her jumper. As soon as he lifted it far enough, a jet spillage of glowing red shot out from under the fuzzy clothes; Gaster immediately threw them back down and pressed a steady hand over it.

He cleared his throat. “Ah.”

 _damn it._ “jeez, kid, how much magic did you use?”

“This is not a case of a deficit,” Gaster interrupted, an eye flashing red and blue which was a nice contrast to the darkness. But was also a three second heads up to being teleported.

The harsh lights of the lab were a stark sore to the eyes upon arrival. The two men accompanied with a child in tow stormed across the room, rolling her back onto the table she had been stuck on weeks before.

_sounds like we’re back to square one._

“if it isn’t a deficit then what is it?”

Gaster hovered a blinking device over her chest. “Admittedly not something I have seen before. It looks as if her body is trying to create too much magic and is converting all resources to do such.”

Sans blinked. “too _much_ magic? what?”

His father exhaled, “Food and water. Usually the body takes the excess and converts it into magic. It seems her body is attempting to convert all of it.”

 _this is my fault._ “god, i should have noticed. kid, im so sorry.”

_i ignored her when she was sweating—that was the first sign. i ignored her when she nearly fainted. and now…_

The child’s face had fallen into a shade of pale like he had never seen, clammy and shaking as if in withdrawal.

Sans threw his head in his hands in distress, “why does this keep happening?” he whispered, exhaling harshly, “as soon as things look ok something else goes wrong…”

“This is the first human in a millennia that has the ability to retain magic. This event was destined to happen until it can be controlled again.”

_ok…_

“Sans, get me a bag of IV fluids for the child.”

Didn’t have to tell him twice. Sans jumped out of his idle sulk and raced to find the equipment.

By the time he came back, the child was whispering to his father. Returning with the bags, Sans attempted to listen in.

“But I’m cold!”

“You will feel better when you have some fluids in you.”

“But I want blankets now!”

“You have to wait until—”

_“NOW!”_

“ _Sans!”_

oh, yeah.

“im here, im here,” he jogged in, passing Gaster the bags, “i’ll get the blankets.”

He heard the clattering of metal from behind as he carried as many blankets as his small frame could handle. One could only guess why Frisk wasn’t happy with only one blanket and _must_ have several, but whatever made her happy.

Sans soon returned with the items of comfort, dropping the avalanche onto the child, who was now hooked up to a hefty supply of saline. The only acknowledgement he got from his father was a brief side glance, completely immersed with his clipboard and pen.

Despite her consciousness, Frisk was still a sickly shade of grey and didn’t look to be able to remain awake much longer.

“Thanks,” she smiled timidly, her eyes still bloodshot red. Whether it was from crying or magic... who knew.

“just get better, ok?” he gently rubbed the back of her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “let me know if you need anything else.”

Frisk nodded absentmindedly into the pillow, curling onto her side into the blankets and burying herself under them like a little burrito. “M'srry...”

“for what, kiddo?”

“Messed up...messed up real bad...real bad...”

“hey, no,” he took a seat on a wheelie stool beside the table. Gaster nodded towards him, lifting the back of a blanket and exposing her back. “this ain't your fault, kid. i let this happen.”

“No, no…” she mumbled, her arms climbing across her body and landing on her face. “I ran… not your fault.”

Sans knelt two arms on the table and sighed. “why did you run?”

At his question, Frisk ducked further under the blankets, diverting her gaze to the insides of her eyelids. “I just…wanted to practice my magic.”

“on the edge of a cliff?” he snorted, “you had all of us looking for you.”

Frisk giggled, peeking her head out again, “It wasn’t that far! I only went a little bit…”

_a little bit? you nearly left town._

“Ah-ow-!” tired eyes suddenly flew open. Sans side-glanced towards his father.

“Apologies.” He didn’t even look up from his work… whatever it was that he was doing to her back.

_he’s back to being withdrawn again then._

Frisk whined, “I’m tired,” she flapped her hands around in frustration. She looked pretty dumb shrouded with blankets.

“Sans,” Gaster suddenly spoke from behind, sounding rather stressed for his temperament, “I need a moment with the child.”

_…huh._

“you… why?”

“Just…” he took a deep breath, “Give me five minutes.”

As if seeking permission, Sans glanced down at Frisk. She simply smiled innocently and nodded.

…This still was slightly ominous. “why can’t i be in the room?”

The scientist heaved a sigh, “Just do what I tell you, Sans.”

_feeling really feisty tonight. ooohkay then._

Without another word, he slinked out the room, keeping both his father and Frisk in sight as he slipped away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out. It wasn't a very happy truth. The extent of Frisk's magic is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal insinuations

_“Sans,” Gaster suddenly spoke from behind, sounding rather stressed for his temperament, “I need a moment with the child.”_

_“you… why?”_

_“Just…” he took a deep breath, “Give me five minutes.”_

_…This still was slightly ominous. “why can’t i be in the room?”_

_The scientist heaved a sigh, “Just do what I tell you, Sans.”_

_He slinked out the room, keeping both his father and Frisk in sight as he slipped away._

**...**

**...**

It was a foolish thought to believe that somehow, if Sans had left the room, it would be easier to speak to the child without distractions and without… anyone listening in.

Alas, they were now stuck in mutual silence. The child hadn’t spoke or moved since Sans was told to leave.

He heard a small voice elicit from his work in front of him. “What are you doing?”

Hmm. He had a feeling that “I’m staring at a hole in your spine” wouldn’t be an appropriate response.

“Working,” he offered instead.

“When can I move?”

“When I’m finished.”

“When are you finished?”

“When I figure out why your body is converting all its resources into magic.”

Frisk started to kick, much to his annoyance and concern over his fragile work. “What are you doing to my back?”

This new inbound tantrum needed to stop. “As I just said, I’m attempting to figure out why—”

“But why do you have to do that?” she was beginning to sound distressed, wriggling slightly more, a toddler testing his boundaries.

With a frustration sigh, Gaster threw down the equipment and wheeled himself in front of the child. If she didn’t calm down, there would be complications.

“Because if this continues then you will die.”

For some reason, this wasn’t the correct answer as the child’s eyes began to swim with tears. “Why am I always dying?”

“You’re not—” he took a breath, composed himself and continued. “Because this is unknown territory for all of us.”

“Why?”

Gaster gnashed his teeth together, adroitly inhaling as calmly as he could. “You are the first of your kind for long time.”

“But I’m human!”

“You’re a human with _magic.”_

“But there used to be other humans with magic!” she cried, beginning to kick again. “Why am I so different?!”

He hissed, “Don’t move! You will disrupt the equipment.”

She froze, clearly coming to the realisation there were things in her _back_ and throwing a tantrum would cause… problems, but she still wanted answers. “Why am I different?”

Gaster watched her for a long while, trying to come up with some conclusion as to why she was suffering so much with magic that used to be very common for her species. And yet…

“… I don’t know.”

Frisk frowned. “You don’t know?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“But…” she paused, licking her dry lips and sighing tiredly. “You gave me medicine… that should fix it, right?”

“I gave you fluids to replenish what you’ve lost, but from what I can gather, your body is still trying to use all of it for magic.”

“Why does it want magic?”

He bared his teeth, “Why do you ask so many questions?”

Frisk blinked, producing a pouting expression. Her fingers wriggled under the blankets, pulling them up to cover her chin. “But you sent Sans away to talk to me about something. What’s _your_ question?”

Ah, yes. He forgot about that.

To his annoyance, her frown warped into a mischievous smile. “You said five minutes, so… you have two more minutes before I shout for Sans to come back!”

_… I hate children._

“I wanted to know what you were doing on the edge of town.” That was quite possibly the worst lie he had ever told to date.

Frisk snorted, “C’mon, I know that’s not what you got _Sans_ to leave for!”

_…Patience…_

“I…” shaking his head, he blew out a breath. _Just come out with it._ “Your cerebrospinal fluid tells me that you have an excessive amount of magic build up and is causing leakage from where it shouldn’t be,” he put into layman’s terms, “It was coming out of your eyes and extremities when we found you. I wanted to know if there is something you have not told me.”

The child pursed her lips, taking his words into consideration—if she understood what any of what he just said even _meant._

“Maybe…” her fingers balled into fists, “Maybe I did this to myself.”

He exhaled calmly through his nose, doing his best to hide it. If she was insinuating what he thought she was, this was a shocking revelation to say the least. “What do you mean by that?”

Frisk’s face went through multiple stages of emotion within a matter of seconds. Gaster sat back, deciding to let her speak in her own time; this was clearly something of a delicate nature.

“Did… did Sans tell you anything?”

“About what?” he asked slowly.

“I’m…” she paused again, her jaw beginning to shake. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not exactly?”

“What do you think!” she hissed, tears now spilling from the corners of her eyes and onto the cotton blankets. “I went right to the edge of town, where I hoped Sans wouldn’t find me—I even asked if he would be able to teleport, doesn’t that worry you?”

“He did not tell me that. He told me you were feeling rather ill. But not this. Perhaps it didn’t seem relevant.”

“I thought…” she heaved a long breath into her arm, squeezing her eyes shut, “I thought if I went really far away he wouldn’t be able to teleport…”

Ah.

…Hmm.

Alright. This is… interesting.

“You are implying something that I really hope I am wrong about.”

Frisk didn’t move, still keeping her head jammed into her arm, breathing forcefully into it. When it looked as if she were about to say something else, she shook her head again.

It took a moment, but eventually she found the courage to speak again. “Do you remember last year?”

“Yes?”

“That time when… Sans and Papyrus had that magic deficit and they nearly died?”

“…Yes?”

“…I…yeah…”

Gaster tensed his jaw. “So you _are_ implying what I hoped you were not implying.”

“…Yeah,” she breathed shakily.

“And in doing so, you have achieved the absolute opposite. Instead of causing a deficit, you underestimated your human magic abilities and now your body cannot keep up with the demand.”

“I thought if I ran out of magic I’d die.”

Ah. Well, now that she put it into words… made this situation all the more serious.

“May I ask… why you did such a thing?”

Frisk shrugged. “I don’t want magic.”

Time to put a sentence to her insinuations. “So your solution was to kill yourself?”

Frisk’s eyes widened at the sentence, her fingers tightening around her cocoon of blankets. “Don’t… say it like that… and not so loud…”

“Why? It’s the truth, is it not?”

“I don’t want Sans to hear,” she whispered, curling in on herself. Gaster put a stop to the movement immediately, throwing a rough hand on the blanketed creature until she got the message.

“Well, you are dying, just slowly and painfully, so congratulations.”

She murmured under her breath, _“Stop it.”_

“Did you not think of the consequences this would have on everyone else?”

“I said, _stop it.”_

“When Sans found you last night, I found him vomiting in our bathroom. What would his reaction be if he discovered you deceased?”

“ _I SAID STOP IT!”_ she screamed, a pair of furious eyes flashing blood red, quickly followed by the monitors surrounding her. She shrieked, presenting a pained expression as she hugged herself rigidly.

Glancing over at the alarms, her magic concentration had soared again, likely meaning she had accidentally (or not) tried to summon it. Her blood pressure had also tanked, which probably meant the apparatus had been dislocated from her sudden movement.

 _“You stupid child!”_ he hissed, promptly standing up to go around her back and fix the dislodged equipment before it could do any more harm.

“ _You made me do it!”_ Frisk yelled back, beginning to violently kick around from her position.

“Stop moving!” Had this child any common sense?

She bucked, just as he managed to get the needlestick out of her spine in time. As if realising she were able to move now, she began to thrash.

“ _Why couldn’t you leave me alone!?”_ she screamed, attempting to roll off the table. It was rather easy to get her to stay there, with a little help from some blue magic. “ _Get off me! What the hell are you…”_

Brown eyes flashed bright red again, and for a second it looked as if she was actually winning the fight against his blue magic, her limbs beginning to move.

… _What?_

No creature on this earth had ever managed to bypass his own power.

To his right, his smaller son suddenly burst through the doors, his expression shifting from worry to confusion to shock. “what the hell is going on?”

Bemused, Gaster watched as the child managed to get herself onto her knees, her hands shaking from the sheer effort it must take to conquer his own magic.

“Stand down.” he uttered with a slight hindrance of worry to his tone, “I’ll let you go when you stop using magic.”

Sans began to carefully step closer, nonethewiser to their earlier discussion. “frisk, kid, what’s the matter? what’s wrong?” his gaze darted wildly to Gaster, “what the hell is happening?”

The child began to heave, her breaths getting heavier and heavier as magic poured from not only her hands, but her eyes and fingers. She uttered an inhumane roar, a burst of magic erupting around the room akin to an _explosion._ Gaster was already prepared, summoning a magical barrier that absorbed the blast. Abruptly the light in Frisk’s eyes faded, her body dropping lifeless.

Releasing the hold he had on her, Gaster and Sans instantaneously ran over to the child just in time for her eyes to roll back, playing out exactly the same pantomime that occurred on the hills. She started to seize, bright red oozing from the corners of her eyes and fingers, a gurgling sound producing from her throat in unison with another alarm going off.

Sans was frozen with panic, “dad, what the fuck is happening?”

He must be quite terrified to call him _dad._ Somehow this child managed to tear past his own hold and almost cause an explosion.

“Same as before, it is happening again. Get me more fluids.”

His eldest son watched on in horror, only acting when his father yelled, “ ** _NOW!”_**

Tipping the child’s head back, the voice at the back of his mind couldn’t help but wonder— _did she do this on purpose? Again?_

His trusty medication of choice was whipped out of a cabinet, drawn out with a syringe and promptly plunged into the child’s neck. Just like before, the seizure slowed.

But what he didn’t anticipate—and the thing he completely forgot about—was the vomit. She gurgled, groaning through fatigued lips, her body trying to expel the fluids, but it was too weak this time. And it was disturbing her breathing.

 _“Sans!”_ he shouted again—why was he taking so long, _why was he so slow and lazy—_ “Get in here, now!”

Aforementioned skeleton rushed back in, eyes for saucer plates. Damn. The last thing he needed was for his son to have another meltdown like earlier while there was an emergency going on.

“Just put the bags down there,” he pointed calmly at the end of the table Frisk was lying on with one hand, the other firmly keeping her head up, “And quickly give me a suction, the child’s airway is obstructed.”

Sans nodded blankly, dropping all the fluid bags onto the table in one heap. Vacantly and trembling, he went to find the suction. It was a horrible race against time, the strangled gurgles coming from the child’s throat and alarms ringing out from monitors only reinforcing his concern.

Eventually his item of interest was brought to him—Gaster whipped it out of his son’s hands before he had a chance to lift them, turning the device on and shoving it down the child’s throat. And there... was the reassuring sound of fluid being extracted.

A minute later and Frisk’s throat was finally clear. She panted, hyperventilating with eyes as large as Sans’. They were frightened, staring at Gaster, desperate and full of unspoken words, but she couldn’t speak. Swiftly placing the suction device down and keeping the child’s head upright, he frowned at her body’s refusal to calm down.

Was something else wrong?

“M’srry,” she squeaked, the simple word causing her to gasp for air again. Gaster put on as much of a calming face as he could.

“Relax,” he urged, meeting Sans’ eye and gesturing towards the discarded tank of oxygen from earlier. He understood instantly. “Relax," he murmured again, "I have everything under control.”

“M’srry,” she groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut. “M’srry….”

“It’s alright. I understand.” He really _didn’t,_ but now was a good time as any to be reassuring, if that were at all possible for the man. People always called him a heartless emotionless monster, after all.

Sans arrived with the newly requested equipment. The elder scientist hovered a breathing mask over the child’s face, urging her once again to calm down. Sans still looked absolutely horrified and would likely be needing attention sometime soon. Gaster made a mental note of it.

Giving a quick side-glance to the monitors—her stats were still in the red.

_Damn it, what am I missing?_

She was still hyperventilating, perhaps that was it. He continued to squeeze the oxygen bag.

“Breathe. Slowly. In and out. Slowly.”

She tried to speak again, “M’srry…”

“It’s alright. Right now I need you to breathe.”

She shook her head, clamping her eyes shut. Numbers were still flashing red.

“Calm down. Breathe.”

“I’cn’t…”

He frowned. “You can’t?”

Still squeezing the bag, and slightly lost for what to do next, he diverted his gaze towards Sans—as if he would be any help at all right now.

Gaster glanced back to the child again. “What’s the matter? Why can’t you breathe?”

Is there something about human anatomy he didn’t know about?

“T’s too haard…”

“uhh…pops,” Sans’ voice was shaky and panicked. “look at the floor.”

Frowning, he took a step back, still keeping the mask over the child’s face----the floor was covered with blood.

_Shi—_

“She dislodged my procedure earlier, there’s likely a bleed,” he announced, trying ever so hard to keep the panic from his voice, “Help me roll her onto her side.”

Sans was already there, grasping her shoulder and legs, rolling her onto her side.

As expected, there was a cesspool of blood coming out of her back. He was filled with confusion—why was it this bad? It was only a lumber puncture, did the sheer action of Frisk’s magic tantrum somehow manage to rip a hole with it? There was no way she was that powerful… was there?

Without being told, and like clockwork, Sans shoved a handful of packed cloth onto the wound, holding it there firmly. Gaster gave him an appreciative nod. He watched as his son took a deep breath, glancing over to the child, then smirked.

_What?_

Fatigued eyes glanced down to see what could possibly be so funny in this scenario—and he found the child’s finger wrapped around his index finger like a lifeline. He blew out a breath.

And he watched, waited. Unsure of whether to proceed with this open display of kindness. Eventually he placed a sturdy hand on the side of the child’s head, moving his thumb over her temple the same way he did with Sans earlier. The child calmed down.

“told you,” his son boasted with a broad grin across his face. Gaster grumbled under his breath, absentmindedly looking back over at the monitors. They were a mix of orange and green now, and not all flashing red. An improvement, for sure.

“M’srry,” the voice slurred again. He frowned down at her.

“There is no reason to apologise.”

She sniffed. “I dun’wan’ die anymore.”

“I know.”

“ _anymore?_ what’s she talking about?”

Oh. She hasn’t told Sans. This will make for an interesting conversation.

“Conceivably what you are assuming she is talking about.”

Gaster diverted his gaze towards his son for a moment; his breathing had increased tenfold, hands trembling nervously.

Quickly glancing back to face the child, he hushed, “I will be right back. Stay here.”

She nodded sleepily, eyelids quivering shut. Releasing his hands from the child, he stalked over to Sans and gestured towards the door. “Come with me.”

Vacantly, the small skeleton followed like a machine, movements clockwork and practised.

Silently walking through a lengthy open corridor, Gaster began to replay the events of what just happened in his head. The child had gone from just resting and being slightly irritating to a full-on near-death experience within seconds. Was it on purpose? She said so before, but then again she had also just whispered she didn’t _want_ to die… humans are so confusing.

Eventually he was brought out of his trance by the sound of a _thump._

Turning around, he spotted Sans backing up against the wall, slowly sliding down to the marble white floor. Evidently they were not going to make it to the bathroom this time.

Gaster strode over, kneeling beside his eldest son as panic began to overwhelm his features.

“i-i-i-i can't do this,” he whispered, his voice almost a shrill sob. “she triggered a _fucking_ _explosion_ , man. im scared.”

Gaster's heart sank into his stomach. This was an unusual occurrence for someone as closed off as Sans. “I know. It's alright. Take as long as you need.”

Sans released a shaky exhale, closing his eyes and throwing his head against the wall, the surrounding lights flickering. It was very clear he was fighting off an emotional storm.

A few more moments, and he murmured apologises under his breath. Gaster chose not to reply, and instead rest a firm hand on trembling shoulders.

“she's going to die, isn’t she?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“how can you possibly save her now?”

“Well, she responds nicely to the Abanordol I give her. Perhaps taking these on a regular basis will lessen the symptoms.”

“yeah but... it's still taking the resources she needs to live, isn’t it?”

“The child's magic is just wildly out of control. I will do my best to come up with a solution.”

“and until then...?”

He sighed. “I will figure something out. I’m considering multiple options.”

Sans nodded, seeming a little calmer with the knowledge that his father had some formulation of a plan. One lone hand crept across his stomach, a groan producing from his mouth.

“Do you feel ill?” Gaster analysed the other skeleton’s face for signs of nausea. He really didn’t want another repeat of today’s earlier episode of having a breakdown in the bathroom, but it was always going to be a probable scenario with everything going on.

Sans only gave a half-hearted shrug. “a little. i’m ok though.” His false smile stated otherwise.

“Go back upstairs,” he sighed, picking himself up off the floor, “You are in no state to help.”

Reluctantly, yet unwilling to argue, Sans followed suit, dragging himself upright and meeting his father’s gaze uneasily. “ok, but what if something else happens?”

“Then I will call staff to assist. But I do not foresee anything else to happen for now.”

“ok…” his tone still full of trepidation, Sans skulked off towards the lift just down the end of the hall.

_Now there will be no disruptions._

**...**

**...**

“Where’s Sans?”

“He has gone to sleep.”

“…Oh,” she seemed somewhat nervous, shuddering as she spoke, “That’s good I guess.”

The scientist acquired his clipboard that had been discarded on the cabinet table and began to scribble his passing thoughts onto it.

“It has become clear to me that these episodes are triggered by an emotional response,” he explained without looking up from his work.

“Oh,” Frisk bit her lip, commencing to strangle the loaf of blankets again. “So I can’t ever get angry or mad or scared or upset for the rest of my life or I’ll die?”

“I didn’t say that.”

… _But perhaps there is some truth to it._

“We will find a way to control this.”

“How? Every time I get even a little bit angry it all comes out and explodes!”

Gaster scoffed, “In all honestly it looks to be ten times more powerful than what is the norm for humans. Although that does explain the excessive amount of resources it craves…”

Frisk’s eyes widened in awe, “Wow. How’d you know?”

“Because,” he scowled, thoughtfully tapping a pencil against his clipboard. “Somehow you were able to overpower my own magic earlier.”

She blinked, glancing down at her hands as if she’d never seen them before. “I don’t remember that…”

“Unsurprising.”

A sneer plastered across the child’s face, “So I could beat you in battle, right?”

_Not likely._

“I only used a very minimal amount of blue magic to keep you still. That is absolutely nothing compared to how far my power can go.”

Frisk blinked. Then shrivelled slightly. “How far can it go?”

… As to not cause the imminent destruction of this house and the subsequent lab, he decided not to answer that question, lest she overreacts again.

_Although I could effortlessly rip you in half if I wanted to._

How very typical for a form of magic that erupts upon emotional volatility to be given to a human _child_ of all creatures.

“Far enough,” he said instead. Then changed the topic before it could be dwelled on any further, “I’m going to look into suppressing your magic output. Perhaps if it could be controlled then you will not experience such violent and frequent episodes.”

Not surprisingly, the child cringed, a small breath eliciting from her mouth.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he offered quickly, “But it may take a lot of…”

_What’s another word for experiment that will not upset the child and cause the demolition of this building?_

“…investigating.”

_Yes. That’s better._

Frisk took a moment to consider his words, the fear remaining ever-present on her face. It’s likely he underestimated the child’s intellect and she had already figured out what he _really_ meant.

“I’m…” she breathed, then shut her eyes, filled with courage, “Ok. Ok. Then I’ll be fixed, right? No dying and no explosions?”

“No dying and no explosions.”

Seeming somewhat content, the child nodded, relaxing a little. “I know that you’ll have to…um…” she swallowed, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Is there a scientific reason why you can’t?”

“…No? Unless I freak out again and blow everyone up?”

Gaster averted his gaze, realising she had a point. Frisk was never very good at being handled medically.

He took in a deep breath, coming to a conclusion.

“Alright, listen to me, and listen very carefully.”

She nodded, intrigued yet cautious.

“I will try to perform my work while you’re awake. However, if you begin to feel overwhelmed, you’re getting too upset, angry, scared or similar, you must tell me at once.”

Her voice was small, “So that you’ll sedate me?”

Gaster grunted, “ _No_ , so that we can make an effort to calm you. However, if an event like earlier happens one more time, I will not hesitate to put you in a medically induced coma indefinitely until I work out the solution.”

She nodded feebly at his harsh decision, evidently not wholly on board with this but having no other option. Besides, he was giving her another chance, which was rare. As such, she found herself managing to utter, “Thank you.”

He offered a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was slightly shorter than the others but it felt like a good place to leave it. I hope it's good!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster tries to figure out a cure to Frisk's magic problem, but he's not the kind of dad that Sans remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening. Here's another chapter.  
> I have the worst upload schedule known to mankind :))

_“I will try to perform my work while you’re awake. However, if you begin to feel overwhelmed, you’re getting too upset, angry, scared or similar, you must tell me at once.”_

_Her voice was small, “So that you’ll sedate me?”_

_Gaster grunted, “No, so that we can make an effort to calm you. However, if an event like earlier happens one more time, I will not hesitate to put you in a medically induced coma indefinitely until I work out the solution.”_

_She nodded feebly at his harsh decision. Besides, he was giving her another chance, which was rare. She found herself managing to utter, “Thank you.”_

_He offered a small smile. “You’re welcome.”_

* * *

“I should have put her down when I had the chance.”

Sans grunted, shrouding the room with white extinguisher fumes. The once metallic room veiled in darkness was now illuminated with a trail of flames and sooty smoke, traces of a terrified child making their escape. “don’t say that. she’s a kid, you scared her off. again. why are you so bad with them?”

“May I remind you that you and Papyrus were once children. You both turned out fine, did you not?”

To be fair, this was _before_ he fell into the void and took on the persona of a furious father with anger issues. Of course he was rather volatile in previous years, but it seemed his belated resurrection only exacerbated it tenfold. 

“yeah, well, maybe next time be more patient, and she won’t set your lab on fire.”

Gaster hissed, “There won’t _be_ a next time. I gave her a final warning, she blew it in no less than ten minutes.”

“c’mon, G, have some sympathy,” Sans tried to lock eyes with his father to get him to listen, “she has some weird kinda phobia against medical procedures due to being mistreated in the past, you know that. i told you, several times.”

“And?”

“ _and,”_ Sans exaggerated, “you’re triggering it. over and over again. you’re nice for five minutes and then you start with the threats again. would it kill you to be a bit understanding?”

“Because she is misbehaving. Children will not learn if you do not reprimand them.”

Sans took in the longest, most aggravated sigh he could muster.

_Is my dad really this awful a person?_

“look. _misbehaving_ is one thing. having an anxiety attack and the perpetrator reacting adversely to it and making it four times worse is another.”

“Then you say so yourself,” Gaster raised an eyebrow, “Even if I give her another chance, she will have another episode, and the same thing will happen again.”

“not if you actually listen.”

“I don’t see how listening is going to resolve this.”

“ok, look,” _I really don’t want to think about this…_ “you remember when i was a kid and I did the exact same thing? the house went up in flames?”

“Yes. I know what you are getting at, and allow me to assure you, _that,_ is different.”

“why? _why_ is it so different? we were both kids freaked about our magic, y'know? except only one of us is being threatened.”

“You were a sick child to begin with.”

Ok. Ok, that was too far.

“i’m not fucked up. i wasn’t then and i wasn’t now. i was… i was just a scared kid that was overwhelmed with magic and accidentally set the wood on fire. but you helped me calm down.”

The elder skeleton’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you had no recollection of that event?”

“yeah, i didn’t,” Sans sighed, blocking out the rush of emotions he had suppressed since he was nine, “but it’s coming back to me in chunks. and i distinctly remember you telling me everything was going to be ok as i was passing out. as i was fuckin’ dying. with pap watching,” he shuddered a tearful breath, a cluster of repressed memories flooding back.

“dying in your _fuckin_ arms. but you didn’t threaten me, you fought tooth and nail and to keep me alive. now the _kid_ on the other hand—shes freaking out, having a trauma-induced panic attack, and what do you do?” he was off on a rant now. “you pin her to the table with magic and threaten to sedate her if she doesn’t calm down. you tell her to be quiet while she’s screaming with terror in your ear. so of course she freaks out and tries to get away, she’s scared of you. i don’t know what’s wrong with you lately but i think she’s better off somewhere where people give a shit.”

Gaster stared at him wordlessly, and for a moment Sans begins to wonder if he was going to lose his rag at him too. But instead, he meticulously deliberated the contents of his next sentence, irritated eyes forming hints of remorse.

After half a minute, he finally utters, “Find the child and bring her back in here. I will endeavour to be more patient.”

Sans bared his teeth, “ _endeavouring_ isn’t fuckin’ good enough, _dad!”_ he groused, much to the shock of his father, jabbing a finger in his general direction, “she needs help from someone she can trust, and i know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re are not trustworthy right now by any definition of the word.”

Then he added for good measure, “i know you’re tired of this, i am too. but don’t take it out on the kid, she has no control over it. k?”

Fathoming the fallout of his son’s words, Gaster watched him for a while, coming to some sort of reasonable judgment. Now it was his turn to talk.

“Try to understand matters from my perspective,” he begins slowly, choosing his words methodically, “You speak as if I am some cruel tormentor, a horrid abusive figure traumatising the child out of sheer negligence. I assure you this is not the case.”

Sans listened.

“I would like nothing more than to heal the child of their ailment. You said so yourself, I care. Perhaps I do. But not in the way that I used to. Not in the way that you remember. When you destroyed our house, the effects of this on you was severe injury, but I could fix you. With the human, this is not injury per se, but an unknown ailment to their magic that no creature has ever come across before, and as such it is gradually killing her. I have multiple theories as to how I can proceed, but all of them require the child’s co-operation. I can do this much quicker if she were sedated.”

“yeah but—”

“Don’t interrupt. I listened to you. Now you will listen to me.”

Sans tensed his jaw but nodded for him to go on.

“Thank you. I understand she has trauma related to preceding medicinal experiences, but if we don’t act soon, her body will starve, and she will die. We are not in a situation where we have time to waste attempting to do the procedures in the most _agonizingly slowest_ ways possible.”

Gaster took a breath, finding his sudden outpour of internal battles surprisingly exhausting. “And despite my best efforts, her mind will fail her, and she will react excessively, wasting even more time while concurrently making her condition worse.”

He met his son’s eyes, speaking matter-of-factly. “All of this could be avoided if I could proceed at my own pace, without distractions, in a timely fashion. Do you understand?”

Sans averted his gaze, an internal battle raging war inside his mind. There was going to be no easy way out of this. His voice became a whisper, locking eyes with the ground.

“i don’t know what to do.”

A beat of silence passed, and he heard his father inhale deeply, thoughts rushing around both monster’s heads, and neither of them were likely a viable solution.

“Bring the child back in here. You can comfort them however you see fit. I will seek to sedate them in a way that will hopefully go unnoticed, whilst avoiding involvement in the meantime. Thus, I can continue my work. And hopefully we can resolve this.”

What other choice did they have? This situation was never going to be sunshine and roses and it was about time Sans saw it that way.

“ok. we’ll do that. but listen,” his voice dropped a semitone, seriousness lacing his words, “because of what _you_ just did, she is probably going to freak out again. especially once she realises what you’re doing. just… just promise me you won’t lose your temper at her like that again. please.”

Mutely, Gaster nodded, cementing the deal to their unpleasant agreement.

“come n’ sit down over here,” Sans ushered Frisk in the room and towards the cushioned table. It had an extra red cotton blanket that wasn’t there before.

“You got me another blanket?” she beamed excitedly, scooping it up in her arms and wrapping her body with it.

Sans sighed, deftly side-eying towards Gaster studying a set of vials at the far end of the room, who had obviously brought out the spare blanket while the younger skeleton went to find her.

“yeah. yeah, i did,” he offered a small smile. There was _some_ kindness hidden away inside his father’s cold, dead heart after all.

Soon, the man returned to the two friends. Sans’ stomach twisted with anxiety, unsure of how this next meeting was going to go. He had a cup in his hand. _Coffee? Really?_

“Hello, Frisk,” Gaster offered, surprisingly gently. The child watched him for a moment, trepidation in her eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered, “Sorry for messing up your lab.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he brushed her off, “I would like you to do me a favour.”

Sans glared at him out the corner of his eye.

_What the hell is he playing at?_

“I produced this drink as an apology for scaring you. Would you be so kind as to try it, and let me know what you think?”

_What the…_

The child’s eyes lit up. “Ok!” her arms reached out towards the cup he was holding, and so he let her have it. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, but quickly dropped the expression, probably to be nice.

She took a sip. Judging by her face, she was obviously disgusted by it, but was determined to finish it. Perhaps she thought she could befriend him. Wouldn’t that be a marvel to behold.

“It’s… new,” she offered after getting through half of it.

“Yes,” he smirked, “I just made it. A personal formula.”

She nodded, drinking more. Then she stopped, hands cupping the mug beginning to tremble, face growing paler.

_Shit, what the hell has he done—_

Sans was about to knock the drink out of the child’s hand, but Gaster’s hand landed on his arm first, giving a stern glare that just screamed _don’t interrupt._

Gaster took the cup from her hand, placing it aside, then stood at the head of the table. Frisk’s eyes followed him wearily.

“You look rather tired,” he affirmed down at her, then shot a look towards Sans.

_…oh._

“Yeah,” she giggled, then sighed. “I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being… bad… and… messing up… your… your…” she trailed off.

“It is of no consequence,” he said, poising two hands under the child’s jaw and lifting her head up to directly face him. “Tell me more about your thoughts on my coffee.”

“Haha… yeah… it’s… it’s really something,” her eyes were struggling to stay open now, and Sans was pleasantly surprised by how nice his father was being to her. Perhaps his talk actually hit something.

“Are you feeling quite calm?”

“Mhmm…”

“That’s good.” She wasn’t going to have an attack anytime soon then. That was great. Sans caught Gaster giving him a demanding stare out the corner of his eye. He jutted his head to see what he wanted, and the man gestured his head towards the cluster of abandoned equipment on the tray.

_Ok, he has a plan._

Sans quietly and nonchalantly went to retrieve the equipment, while his father kept Frisk talking.

“May… mayb’… we… friends?”

A small smile formed on Gaster’s mouth.

“That would be excellent.”

_How nice. They’re bonding instead of trying to kill each other._

Frisk swallowed, shutting her eyes and sighing. When she reopened them, her fingers found their way over to the sleeve of Gaster’s lab coat, wrapped tightly around the material. Thankfully, he didn’t react.

“Mmm…” she groaned, eyes furrowing as the grasp on his sleeve grew tighter, “Dizzy.”

Gaster hummed in reply. Quirking an eyebrow, he crept one hand away from the child’s jaw and pressed two fingers against her neck, resulting in an urgent glance towards Sans. Evidently she was beginning to get upset again.

“ _hold on!”_ he mouthed frantically, trying his best to gather the equipment without raising the attention of the child.

“Do you want your blanket?” he distracted her.

Frisk ignored him, breathing quickening. “Feel sick… whazz’appening?”

_Damn it. Damn it! Not now! Come on, so close…_

While the child groaned, Gaster pulled the blanket up over her. “Perhaps it was my coffee. I apologise that it made you feel ill. I will not give you another.”

That elicited a response. She grinned, “Yeah… you need practice… haha…” she took in a large gulp of air. Exhaled it. Then her face went slack.

A beat passed. Another beat…

Reaching into his coat pocket, Gaster retrieved a pen light and pulled back an eyelid, flashing it in the child’s eye.

“Excellent, she is asleep. Come here with that,” he nodded towards the equipment.

With a sigh of relief, Sans rushed over with the trolley he had been painstakingly pushing across the floor at turtle speed as to not make any noise. The two worked together to connect the pieces, until finally it was ready for use.

“drugging her with coffee? really?” Sans chuckled incredulously, flicking multiple switches on the machine until it gave two beeps and produced a low humming sound. With one hand still clasping the child’s jaw, Gaster used the other to grab the end of the apparatus, placing the breathing mask over the child’s face.

“Yes. Now we can finally get to work.”

“pops, hey, i really appreciate what you did there,” he sighed with contentment, “for a sec i thought something was gonna happen…”

“It was a necessary kindness.”

Sans snorted, “yeah, yeah. all for the sake of work.”

He would never admit to being nice for the sake of being nice.

“so what? what’d we do now?”

“Set up an IV line and the fundamental stat outputs, I want her under hefty amounts of sedation, so you will have to intubate. I’ll be right back.” Gaster promptly left the child’s side and sauntered off to the back room.

Sans blinked. “and where are you going?”

He didn’t look back. “To get my experiment.”

**...**

Gaster appeared to be getting progressively more jubilant having finally got what he wanted. Several days after the child were anesthetized, she was entirely at his mercy, and no infuriating floundering distractions would get in his nor his experiment’s way.

He studied the small receptacle in his hand. Now all he had to do was make the irksome thing _work._

“is that it?” his son appeared behind him, his gaze fixed onto the item he held, “it looks small.”

The scientist twirled the object with his fingers, the size akin to that of a computer processor. “Yes. It should help to regulate the substantive power output to something more manageable.”

“well…” Sans reached out to take the man’s prized possession, but he stepped away. They cannot risk the device being lost. “…does it work?”

“My calculations indicate that it performs flawlessly for a specific period of time, but sustained usage will render it useless, _fry it out_ if you will. I’m working to avoid this, ideally providing a lifelong mechanism.”

Sans nodded slowly, consuming the information given, his brow furrowing, “but is it safe?”

Gaster mirrored his uneasy expression. “Safe? Of course. I would not give a malfunctioning nor dangerous device to a child.”

“ok,” his son relaxed a little, “i trust you. but i gotta ask, and i know you won’t be happy with me saying this, but…” he took a deep breath, “is it _necessary?_ can we not just teach the kid how to control it?”

To Sans’ surprise, his father didn’t seem to get angry at all, merely sighing at his question. “Believe me when I say I sought out alternatives before resorting to this. If it were this serious then you would have one already.”

An eyebrow lifted in agreement, “yeah, guess that’s true. what’s different with her?”

“Well,” Gaster gestured for him to follow, then turn to walk over to his cluttered desk. Retrieving his computer tablet, he tapped around to bring up his most recent findings. Satisfied, he passed it over to Sans. “As you can see, this is not a simple case of excessive magic capabilities, as it were for you.”

Sans studied the screen, his brow furrowing in concentration. There was a time-lapse of numbers, going from a steady one hundred for several hours and sometimes _days,_ before every now and then, in correlation with Frisk’s spiking heartrate, the numbers shot up to over four hundred, occasionally breaching the five hundred mark.

“oh.”

“Yes. And if you see here,” he pointed towards the number 250 highlighted in blue at the top right hand of the screen, “This is what is calculated to be the maximum threshold her body handles. Yours is around four hundred and rarely ever exceeds that limit. And if it does, only scarcely. The child is powerful, but only because she exceeds her limit by over double the amount.”

“oh… so… it couldn’t be controlled anyway? damn, that’s…” he balled his fingers into fists, “that’s rough, huh.”

“I am unsure as to why,” Gaster admitted, “Although, following through some research, I do have a potential theory,” he averted his gaze, “It is highly probable this is a genetic mutation, a disorder of some kind. It is unfortunate that this occurred in the first magic-wielding child in a millennia.”

“so her biological parents could have it too?”

“Quite possibly.” Gaster took back his tablet, “The gene lay dormant over many generations whist humans outgrew their magic through evolution. But it seems interacting with monsters surrounded by magic and breaking the barrier has… reignited this genetic factor, causing the manifestation of magic with the addition of this inherited condition her parents have carried in their DNA.”

“that’s…” Sans blinked, “that’s a lot to take in. how did you find all of this out?”

“Through years of research in the past, and having the child at my disposal…” he paused, “Disposal is the wrong word, but you understand my meaning?”

“yeah,” Sans nodded, “i’m just, really really glad we put her to sleep. that was the right call. we wouldn’t have found any of this out, heh.”

_That’s what I have been trying to tell you all along, stupid boy…_

“Yes.”

“so now what?”

He hummed in thought. “Keep an eye on the child’s nutrients, I will continue to work on the device. I hope to have a working piece by the end of tomorrow.”

Sans smirked, seeing this as the perfect opportunity for a pun, “don’t worry pops, i’ll keep an _eye socket_ out for them, heheh…”

Gaster sneered, “If I knew you were going to produce so many terrible puns I would have ensured you were born without vocal chords.”

“hey,” his son snorted, “i’m the light of your life. my puns are amazing.”

With a low grunt, Gaster turned back around to face his desk, ready to work on his latest project some more. _“That you are, Sans. That you are.”_

**...**

“We won’t know the results until she awakens.” Once again, Gaster fiddled with his now presumably working masterpiece that he'd managed to put together in just over a week. “Let us insert the device into her system and observe the reaction first. I will begin to reduce the sedation drug.”

Just in case her body rejected the foreign material, which was a highly likely possibility.

Sans glowered at the aforementioned device that would patently be the answer to all their problems. Mostly Frisk’s. “how much magic can she use after this?”

If it was a suppressor, then _how much_ was going to be suppressed?

His father didn’t seem too bothered by the idea, taking the child’s arm and laying it out in from of him. “I estimate around half.”

“half?” That was only 125. Less than half of his own magic. That wasn’t much at all. But if it would save Frisk’s life, then…

“If this is successful then I could seek to increase it in the foreseeable future,” the device was swiftly inserted into her wrist with a _hiss_ and a _click_. “But for now, we must play it safe.”

Sans nodded. Their priority right now was keeping Frisk alive, otherwise there wouldn’t be anyone alive to even _use_ the magic he was fretting so much about.

Now to wait for the child to come out of her week-long sleep.

**...**

Returning to life after death was something that had happened _oh so many times_ before, back before Frisk lost the ability to reset.

But _this._

 _This_ was different.

It was like being thrown into the world again as a new-born baby, confused, hungry and inundated with overwhelming senses.

_Where am I?_

_What happened to me?_

_Why can’t I remember anything?_

The sight from above her was a blurry mixture of colours seeping into each other, an interconnecting mess that couldn’t be identified as individual objects.

She heard herself first—the sound of her own heavy breathing, muffled and distorted just like the rest of the world. Then she became aware of her hands, her fingers, resting on something soft that she knew _should be_ comforting, yet she was not feeling comforted at all.

A pressure on her chest made her wonder if she had stopped breathing, but she quickly became aware of the sound of her own wheezy inhalations.

Then she remembered she had ears. Yet the only auditory noise she had been gifted with was the soft ringing that wouldn’t go away.

Then she remembered pain. There was a deep ache in her wrist, and for a moment she wondered… _no, no. I wouldn’t do that. Not for a long time now…_

_Time… what’s the time? Why can’t I remember anything?_

She became aware of an uncomfortable wetness on her cheek, and it took a moment for her to realise she was crying.

“Mama?” she found herself murmuring, a demand more than a question, her voice disjointed from her body, “Where’s mama?”

Come to think of it, who _was_ mama? There were several faces behind the name…

As panic began to rise through her gut, she became aware of a burning sensation in her chest. There was something bad associated with _panicking,_ but why?

 _Calm down,_ she told herself, _Calm down._

A white blob accompanied by 2 black blobs surfaced into her vision of watercolour, a mouth’s slow-motion of movement producing nothing but muffled unintelligible sound to Frisk’s ears.

She shut her eyes, shutting out all the horrible confusing sounds and sights and noises that made no sense. As a whine escaped her throat, Frisk felt the surface of the bed she was laying on dip, coupled with suffocating plastic smothering over her face. She was about to knock it out the way, to get rid of the intrusive invasion of touch that she really didn’t need right now…

Then she realised she could breathe again.

The senses calmed. The noises stopped muffling together, the world didn’t seem to be closing in.

Frisk exhaled softly, the motion a relief and an elation to her tired, muddled mind.

Intelligible words sounded from her right. “that’s better, hey? jeez, kid. you scared the hell outta me.”

Her lips were still numb, but she tried her hand at speaking anyway. “S’rry.”

It still felt as if her voice was estranged from her body.

“don’t be,” the voice belonged to Sans, “you’ve had a really long sleep. i’m jealous, wish i could get away with that,” two bony hand clasped her arms, probably as a way to get her to come around.

His prior words played on her mind. _A really long sleep?_ How long is he talking?

“How long?” she slurred, eyes drifting open and shut repeatedly until she accepted defeat and kept them closed.

“just over a week,” Sans groused, soothing a hand up and down her arm, “but it’s ok now. you’re ok.”

Frisk blinked, remembering her unanswered question from earlier. “Where’s mama?”

Or maybe they did answer but she couldn’t hear.

“if ya mean tori, she’s at home. but i could probably convince pops to let her visit if you want?”

“Yeah…” she nodded sluggishly yet with vigour, “I want mama…”

“ok,” Sans patted her shoulder, “we’ll find your mama.”

Good, she hadn’t seen her mom for a long time. And she _really really_ wanted to; there was only so much comforting that a friend could do until it was time to resort to the embrace of a loving mother.

Her mind brought her attention back to her wrist. Without opening her eyes, Frisk clenched her fist, squinting at the ache radiating from the strained muscles, then released. A hand suddenly slipped around her wrist—she nearly jumped.

“you feel that, huh?”

“Mhm…”

“yeah, heh. sorry, pops isn’t great at being gentle.”

“But why?” she forced her eyelids to separate, focusing her blurry gaze onto her bad hand. The achy area was kinda red, slightly swollen and had a white dot on it that wasn’t there before. She blinked. “My hand’s gonna fall off.”

That earned a laugh from her friend. “heheh, no it ain’t, kid. my old man made a… uh… special device, yeah, just for you. so that your magic doesn’t get out of control.”

She nodded, “Um…and that’s in my hand?”

“yup,” he patted it gingerly, “you should be able to use your magic without literally exploding now.”

Frisk grinned sleepily, “Tha’s cooool…”

“glad you think so, heh,” Sans snorted, then stood up from his seat beside her, “actually i’d better let him know you’re awake and go find your ma.”

Honestly, Frisk didn’t really care nor was listening to anything that was being said right now and just wanted to go back to sleep. “Mmkay…”

There were two more reassuring pats to her good hand, before she heard footsteps creeping away. Closing her eyes, Frisk listened intently until the sound faded.

_Something touched my arm._

Frisk jolted, flying upright in bed as if the literal physical form of a sleep paralysis demon had come to life.

_It may as well have been._

“Hello. How are you feeling?” it was the lying skeleton science man that pretended to be comforting but instead had a trick up his sleeve the entire time.

_Don’t you raise your eyebrow at me you traitorous… –_

“My hand hurts. I’m guessing that’s your fault.” she folded her arms around her chest, sulking. The world seemed considerably more…normal now.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” his eyebrow disappeared under his skull, handing her over a glass of water, “Although I’m sure you will be pleased to know your lifespan has been increased significantly.”

Frisk blinked, taking the glass, “How long was I going to live before?”

His expression never shifted. “About three days.”

“Three…” she trailed off—what had happened that was going to cause her imminent death? Why couldn’t she remember? Suddenly the lying skeleton’s betrayal didn’t matter anymore. “What happened to me?”

Gaster smirked, “Your overabundance of power you challenge me with has now been halved.”

Frisk nearly choked on the water. “ _What?_ Why? What did you do? Why?” she glared down at her aching wrist, “What—it’s… it’s that, isn’t it? What did—”

“You are too young to understand the intricacies behind it. However, I said there would be no more dying and no more explosions, and I have done that.”

Frisk wasn’t sure what to feel. Confusion, anger, relief… perhaps all three at once.

“But that’s not fair!” she found herself saying instead.

A look of surprise etched across the man’s face, “You would rather I left you to die?”

She tensed. “Well… no, but there must have been another way!,” she cried out despite herself, “You were just jealous!”

“I can assure you, _child,_ I have more magic than you will ever comprehend. If I really wanted to, I could tear you in half. But, please, do tell me more about how much stronger you are than me with your halved _human_ magic.”

Frisk gasped.

“hey, pops, that’s enough.”

 _Sans. Thank god._ She looked around the room for him, where was he? Her vision hadn’t completely stopped blurring yet… _it’s probably that blue blob down the back over there…_

“I’m working.”

“not like that you’re not. c’mon, she’s right, this isn’t fair.”

“How so?”

“how so? She’s just come out of a week-long coma and you’re enlightening her to the many fantastical ways you can rip her apart.”

“…”

“remember what we said? you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“being an ass.”

“I fail to see how—”

“Shut up,” Frisk interrupted with a mutter, turning away from them both. Her stomach twisted in on itself. “Just shut up and leave me alone.”

She heard Sans sigh. “kid, hey, i’m sorry—”

“Leave me alone, please. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

“This is the perfect opportunity to study the device for—”

“gaster. get out.”

_Device…?_

“You cannot tell me to leave my own lab. Perhaps you should be the one to leave instead.”

“i’m not the one pissing off and scaring a sick kid. maybe you’re making her worse.”

“ _JUST STOP ARGUING!”_ Frisk screamed, flinging back her blanket and slipping onto the—floor… _god I’m dizzy._

“ok, sure bud,” Sans took off, his blurry figure becoming clearer as he advanced near, “but you gotta get back into bed. it’s been a whole week—”

“ _ARRGGHHH_!” she shrieked, stamping her foot like an impatient toddler, “ _Stop_ telling me what to do!”

Sans threw his hands up, “ok! ok, fine.” Frisk stole a peek at Gaster to see how he was reacting—apparently taken to staring at the floor.

Her stomach recoiled.

_Ugh…_

“Can I be left alone? Please?” she begged, unsure of how much longer she could hold off the urge to throw up.

Sans considered her for a moment, before giving a relenting sigh. “i guess five minutes won’t hurt.”

Frisk frowned, “Fifteen!”

“ten. and that’s my final offer.”

She sharply inhaled… “Fine.”

“cool. c’mon pops,” come to think of it, the man was being strangely silent. Well, that wasn’t _so_ strange, but still…

He wordlessly followed his son out the room, leaving Frisk to gawk after them.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Frisk shot off down towards the bathroom, kicking the door open and sliding to the sink. She gagged and retched on empty, having had nothing to even digest for a week. Matted hair stuck to her clammy face, shivers coursing down her cold bare shivering arms.

_God, I feel awful…_

_Why am I doing this, I haven’t even—_

She retched again.

_Ugh…_

_Ten minutes. I can stay here for ten minutes._

_Nothing bad is going to happen within ten minutes..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a cure! Sort of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know what happened here... one minute i'm spending days on an empty document, the next I can't stop writing and all of a sudden I have a 6000 word chapter... oops. :D

_As soon as the door slammed shut, Frisk shot off down towards the bathroom, kicking the door open and sliding to the sink. She gagged and retched on empty, having had nothing to even digest for a week. Matted hair stuck to her clammy face, shivers coursing down her bare shivering arms._

_God, I feel awful… Why am I doing this, I haven’t even—_

_She retched again._

_Ugh…_

_Ten minutes. I can stay here for ten minutes. Nothing bad is going to happen in ten minutes…_

**.....** **.....**

Staring at the ceiling had become a beautiful pass time. It was an interesting shade of pearl, accompanied by floating black dots.

Oh wait, nope, those were just eye floaters.

Frisk wiped her mouth clean of the red liquid that had been the only uninvited guest making its way up her throat. Just in case anyone came in, at least they wouldn’t need worry about that.

Laying on the cold floor was a respite to her feverish skin. In fact, she was becoming one with the floor, and she was pretty sure her limbs were slowly melting into the marble. The ceiling was swimming and twisting into weird circles so that probably meant she was melting.

_Wheeee…_

“kid?” she heard the door speak, rattling impatiently. How long had she been here again? Didn’t they say ten minutes? It had definitely been more than ten minutes. “you in here?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned, shutting her eyes. Why was he interrupting her roller coaster ride, the Incredible Rotating Floor? It probably cost at least five tokens.

“you good?”

“Mmm…” _go away, don’t ruin my fun._

“it’s ok if i come in?”

“No, i’m busy.”

“…doing what exactly?”

“Relaxing!” Well, it wasn’t a lie, she paid good money to ride in the spinning cups and if he interrupted then she’d have to go and line up again.

She heard him grunt, no doubt annoyed that he had to queue for the ride when he was so lazy, but to her dismay she heard the door creak open.

Moments later, his worried face swam into her vision, melding with the ceiling. “whoa, ok, ok...”

“What are you doing here?” she slurred, trying to touch his wibbly wobbly head with her hand. But her arm was heavy, maybe she wore out it out from making the wheel on the cups spin so fast.

Sans’ brow furrowed, “i came to see if you were ok. what are you doing on the floor?”

She gave him a stupid grin. “Spinning.”

“spinning?” he frowned, studying the room, “i smell sick. have you been sick?”

“It’s cos I’m going so fast. We’re going so fast in circles.” She giggled at the look on the young skeleton’s face, “If you’re scared we can ask them to stop the ride…”

Sans’ eyelights shrank back into the dark depths of his sockets, “what the hell are you…” the back of a bony hand fell onto her burning forehead, his cold touch a nice relief. A heavy yet suppressed sigh elicited from the skeleton. “damn it.”

“Wheeee…!” her eyes rolled around in her head, not focusing on anything in particular except the nauseating rotation of the room.

Sans grabbed her wrist, “how long have you been…” he paused, “…on the spinning ride?”

“Uhh,” She really didn’t want to put the effort into thinking. “Thinking is haaaard!”

“just give me an idea.”

“I dunno, quite a while…hehe… ahhh…” she shut her eyes, a headache forming within the forefront of her skull. “I wanna get off the ride now…”

“yeah, that sounds good,” her friend was still inspecting her wrist, pressing a thumb down on the part that ached. Sounds like she pulled a muscle from spinning so fast.

The sound of a door creaking open again confused her – wasn’t the door already open? No-one else could get on the ride, right? There was only two seats… maybe they brought a deck chair.

“What’s happened?” a man’s voice sounded from behind, vaguely aware of him kneeling behind her going by the sound of his long coat fluttering as he moved.

“no idea, just found her like this,” she heard Sans say as a pair of hands cupped the sides of her head, “she’s feverish but the wound isn’t infected, so i dunno what’s going on.”

“Hmm.” A skull appeared over the spinning ceiling, but it was a different one to Sans. This one was much more serious. Maybe he controlled the ride… maybe he could help them stop the spinning?

Her chin was grasped firmly in the palm of the serious man’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked, taking in a nice, long deep breath. “...Spinny…”

“Spinny?”

“Yeah… spinny ride… spinning… in circles… very… very… spinny…”

“i should probably mention she’s hallucinating and thinks she’s in a tea cup ride.”

“I can see that.” The man looked down at her incredulously, “Sans, there’s a black box under the table in the lab, can you locate it and bring it here?”

“yeah, sure,” he was already beginning to stand, “i’ll be right back kiddo, ok?”

Frisk whined, “But you can’t leave… the ride…! It’s… it’s… it’s…”

“Now, Sans.”

Sans shot up an eyebrow and ran off, “ok, ok.”

Frisk puffed out a breath, becoming increasingly aware of the corners of her vision darkening.

The spinning cups were beginning to slow down, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted that anymore. It was scary.

Instinctively her hands sought out familiar black cloth, grasping it tightly when desperate fingers discovered the material. She held onto it for dear life, as if the presence of it in her hand would stop the world from going dark. If she let go, she would fall endlessly into the black vacuum.

This was soon helped when a bony hand clutched hers, bringing her slightly closer to consciousness again and further from falling into a dark pit of nothingness.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked sluggishly. “F’r wha’?”

“…”

Oh, well. Maybe the endless nothingness that was insistently calling her was a viable option after all. She closed her eyes.

“Stay awake, focus on my voice.”

“Mmmm…”

“Talk to me; where are we right now?”

“Mmm…park…”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Mmm…” she groaned, not wanting to think but not wanting to _not_ think, lest she submit herself to falling into nothingness. “Scary skele man.”

She thought she heard him chuckle. “If you say so. We’re in the bathroom at my lab.”

“Lab…” she slurred, “Dog?”

“No,” another chuckle, a hand grasping her good wrist, two fingers wrapping themselves around it. “Laboratory.”

“Mmm… _laahbtory_.”

“Yes.”

“Mmm…” she took in another breath, and another.

Her body wanted more, so she tried to breathe some more.

It wanted _more more more!_ But it wasn’t enough.

She inhaled again—then ended up coughing.

She spluttered, coughing again, sharply inhaling, _coughing_ , inhaling deeply again, unable to catch her breath.

The hand on her wrist moved to her chest and sighed, applying a slight pressure. “Slowly. Slow. Calm down.”

“Not… not… not… panicking… m’not… not… not…i just… i… i… i… can’t…i can’t…” her body needed more—she inhaled deeply again, and again, and again, and again, and again, she couldn’t stop—

“Stop that. Calm down. Deep breaths.”

She shook her head. No, her body wanted _more._

It was just then her mind joined the dots and realised everything had tinted a pale shade of grey.

Another sharp inhale—and something was rising up her throat—does she inhale or throw up? What does her body want? Her mind apparently settled for hyperventilating.

The hand that was on her chest then moved to cup her face, “Look at me, child. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Her eyes _were_ open, she was sure of it! She just couldn’t breathe! Her own hands flailed, grasping her neck, bug-eyed and sawing in breaths but it wasn’t _fast enough!_

She felt something trickle out the corner of her mouth. Seconds later, two hands locked firmly onto her waist, roughly flipping her onto her side. Her face connected with the cold ground, her stomach churning at the movement. And so she coughed again.

 _“ **SANS!”**_ the loud voice sounded so distant now, like she was already falling down into the endless abyss and the man was calling from above.

She soon found her gasping had stopped upon being manoeuvred onto her side, but there was something wet trailing down the corners of her eyes and mouth—tears? Was she crying out her mouth? Was that a thing? It probably was but she was too far gone to tell the difference.

Vaguely she felt her sleeve getting yanked up, followed by a bee-sting to the shoulder. She moaned, perfectly timed with something rubbery smothering her face. It fogged up with every breath she took.

“Her lungs are filling with the excess fluid.” Her brain finally decided to make the connection that Gaster was the one hovering over her, forcing the air into her lungs with a mask, squeezing a big blue balloon.

“sorry, i couldn’t find it and tori started getting angsty.”

“It’s fine, I believe the device has malfunctioned.”

“yeah no shit.”

Sans pushed Frisk’s clammy hair out of her face with his phalange, his head slightly tilted as he watched her carefully.

“hey bud, you still with us?”

She mumbled absentmindedly through the mask. “Mmmm…”

Whatever they gave her, it was making her feel sleepy. The corners of her vision were being greeted by darkness again, but this time it was soothing, and not brought on by panic.

“Hehe, balloon,” she lifted an arm towards it, “Pop!” Before she could get anywhere close to whacking it, an exasperated arm pushed hers away. Pouting, she shared a glance with Sans, his father apparently taken to being sullen and reserved again.

Frisk gazed upwards at the deeply-concerned elder skeleton, trying to read his expression that was being badly suppressed by a vacant stare.

“Umm…” she tugged his sleeve, eyes drooping. Gaster stopped staring at the wall and met her eye. “My magic… bad?”

Gaster’s gaze averted into the distance once more, releasing a contemplative sigh. “It seems my invention was a failure. I imagine it has ruptured, causing the excess to build-up in your system.”

Sans rubbed a supportive hand on her shoulder, “not entirely surprised. you’re more powerful than we thought, heh.”

Frisk’s grin soon melted off into a deadpan expression, suddenly overcome with tiredness. “M’sleepy…”

“yeah, yeah, go to sleep,” Sans offered a reassuring grin, “we’ll fix this. again.”

As she admitted defeat and allowed her mind to succumb to the darkness, she heard a final utterance from above her.

_“god damn it.”_

_**.....** **.....** _

“Can you tell him to come in?”

“kid...” Sans ran a hand over the back of his head, “my old man’s pretty upset right now, and you know how he gets. grumpy and prickly. mostly out of self-loathing.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, innocent eyes soft with remorse, “I wanna help.”

“hey,” the skeleton offered a sheepish smile, “it’s not your fault, none of this is. my pops on the other hand, he wants to take the blame for all of it.”

“But…” she narrowed her eyes, “It’s not his fault I’m like this. I was born with it!”

Sans shrugged, “yeah, well, that’s not how he sees it. his implant failed and you got pretty sick. _again.”_ the last phrase was accentuated with exasperation.

She stuck her nose in the air, “Well… can you tell him to come in anyway? If you don’t I’ll go to him myself!”

“heh, why are you so insistent on seeing him? he’s in his room sulking, i really don’t want to see him losing his temper at you, bud.”

“Please?” she ruined him with the puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease?”

Sans gave something of a sigh and flapped his arms in submission. “ok, but don’t say i didn’t warn you. i’ll go get him.”

“Yay,” Frisk beamed as if having just acquired a new puppy, “Thanks!”

“yeah, yeah. you’re gonna regret this, heheh,” she watched the young skeleton drag his feet to the exit.

_Messages._

_Internet._

_Messages._

_Internet._

_Why is no-one talking?_

_I’m so bored!!_

“What do you want?”

Oh. She didn’t even notice Gaster enter the room.

“Hi,” she glanced up from her phone, noting the man pushing the door shut. “Are you ok?

Somehow she felt those words weren’t the right thing to say the second they left her mouth.

The other man stared at her from the other end of the room as if expecting something more. Purple bags lay under his eyes, of which were slightly dimmed and almost vacant.

“Sorry,” she murmured, gaze retreating back to her phone. _Of course he’s not okay._ “Sans told me you were upset, I wanted to make sure you knew it wasn’t your fault…”

The frosty wall of silence between them was deafening; Frisk didn’t know whether it was still her turn to speak. All of her questions thus far had gone unanswered.

She maintained eye contact with her phone, fixatedly staring at the metal ridges to avoid meeting his gaze.

“How is it not my fault?”

Frisk’s fingers curled around her phone, distantly wondering if Gaster was doing the same thing.

“All I have done is bring you harm. And now you want me to stand before you whilst you tell me it is ‘not my fault’?”

A breathy exhale released from her throat. “You’re just trying to help… you’re the best chance I’ve got at recovering from this.”

An audible small sigh could be heard from the back of the room, footsteps hitting the marble ground and drawing closer.

“For a young child you are awfully naïve. It’s admirable.”

Frisk snorted—was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?

“Besides,” the man’s boot scraped backwards, “It may be better for you if we referred you to a monster hospital. They deal with magic ailments on a daily basis.”

Frisk’s eyes widened, “No! No way! Firstly, I’m not even a _monster_! A-and second, I don’t trust them!”

“Then who do you trust?”

“You!”

“…”

The room fell into tense silence again.

_Did I say something wrong…?_

Unspoken words brought attention to her anxious sweaty palms; she rubbed them together apprehensively. It was a long while before a single phrase were uttered from Gaster’s direction.

“… Why?”

She kneaded her blanket, tucking her phone away and wrapping herself around the warm embrace of red cotton.

“I… just do,” Frisk finally said, staring down at her lap, “Don’t beat yourself up over this, you’ll find a way!”

He had a track record of sulking over his failed experiments after all. If it didn’t work instantly after zero testing, he would declare himself and his work an absolute failure, heralding his early retirement, probably in a remote cave somewhere where no-one could watch him apparently tear the locals apart.

And then would find a solution two days later.

“My implant nearly killed you.”

“… Uh-huh.”

“Your lungs filled with fluid while you lay deranged on the floor spitting out liquefied excess magic.”

“… Yeah.”

“Does that not scare you?”

“A little,” she gave a small shrug, “Of course it does. But if you didn’t, I’d probably end up killing other people and myself anyways. My body isn’t going to fix itself just because you stop trying.”

Frisk heard the telling sound of wheels of a seat rolling up to her bedside. Inwardly she rejoiced, having clearly begun to get through to him.

“You have remarkable courage.” His voice was a lot closer now, and slightly less _empty_. “This will not be an easy process. Do you understand that?”

Well, it hadn’t been easy so far, so she kinda got that already. “Yeah, I realised that when I celebrated being stuck in your lab for a whole month.”

The man chuckled despite himself. “Yes, you have not been home for a long time. I am sorry about that.”

She blew out a breath, aware of her face getting uncomfortably hot. “It’s not your fault… I know if I was away from here, something might happen to me.”

_Has he turned the thermostat up?_

_Freaking dad’s and their thermostats…_

“Then you will not mind if I continue… my…” he paused, obviously trying to find a better word for _experiment._

“I know, I know,” she forced herself to laugh, “You can experiment all you want.”

“…Hmm.”

“Really. Um, ’cept when I start having panic attacks again, then it gets scary.”

“Of course. That is why I kept you asleep the first time.”

“Yeah…” she shut her eyes, running a hand over her face and exhaling another long breath as a bead of sweat trickled down her brow. “It’s… it’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

There was another silence, but this one wasn’t tense. It was more… needed.

“Are you alright?”

Frisk flew open her eyes, nodding frantically, “Yeah! Yeah, sorry, M’just real tired.”

The other man frowned over her, his eyes watching something past her. “You have become rather pale again. Are you sure?”

“ _Yes,”_ she quirked a lopsided smile, rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness. At least she knew where Sans got it from.

“Perhaps you should get some sleep.” The second those words left his mouth, it felt as if a wave of fog clouded her mind, leaving her vision blurring together again.

“Umm…” she murmured breathlessly, “I feel kinda funny…”

Frisk heard the man hum from above her. “Sit back.” She heard the bed crank as it suddenly went from slightly upright to completely flat, the rapid movement sending her head spinning.

“ _Oh god, not again…”_ she breathed despairingly.

“How is your breathing?” Gaster queried, studying the numerous flashing numbers on nearby monitors, clearly beginning to sense a pattern here.

“I dunno…” her eyes fell shut, decidedly not wanting to put up a fight against her rebelling body anymore.

“Do you need assistance with it?”

“I dunno…” it was impossible to muster the energy to form any other words.

“I took the implant out earlier. These symptoms should not be happening.”

_I’m just gonna sleep, that doesn’t need a reply._

“What exactly are you feeling right now?”

_Tired… tired… so tired…_

_So so… so… tired…_

_so..._

_...so..._

“Frisk.”

Oh. She was saying it in her head. That wasn’t going to help.

Still, she moaned under her breath, the world falling away into a familiar abyss.

“Alright.”

It went silent for a while, until the familiar sensation of oxygen being forced through her lungs reaffirmed itself. This, too, was beginning to become a pattern. Maybe it was something that was going to happen frequently.

An eyelid was pressed back – probably to see if she was leaking excess magic again. But he didn’t _seem_ too concerned so maybe she really was just tired, and this was all a huge overreaction.

“I'm going to give you some medicine. Try not to react excessively.”

Frisk couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or if that was an attempt at humour. Regardless, seconds after a cold rush trailed up her arm, the room sharpened significantly, improving in clarity to the point where she almost felt normal.

The scientist must have noticed her relief. “Is that better?”

She nodded.

“Good,” Gaster heavily sat back down with a sigh, gaze dropping to his feet. Frisk turned her head to look at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, fingers curling into her fluffy blanket.

Without looking up, he nodded, an acknowledgement unworthy of a response.

**.....** **.....**

The spectacle of a new and improved suppressor chip was slammed onto the desk before them.

“…so is this one actually going to work?”

“I am quite certain.”

“you said that last time and look where we are.”

Frisk cringed inwardly; _Don’t antagonize him..._

Gaster ignored him, or did a very good job at appearing to do so, “Her magic began to destroy the chip itself, an autoimmune reaction if you will. This time it has a defence, and such consequences should be avoided.”

Sans slid the device across the table towards him, studying it curiously. “maybe you should build in a sensor to alert us when it's gone wrong. that way we have no repeats of the kid passing out on her own.”

“Hmm,” Gaster pretended he wasn't already considering this. “That’s a practical idea, one I shall implement. Thank you.”

“no probs,” Sans stole a glance over to the kid, of whom was distracted by her phone. “let's get this over with.”

**.....** **.....**

Frisk _winced_.

She had only been conscious for five seconds, yet her body apparently decided to throw her into the deep-end and throttle her nervous system with throbbing pain centring at the base of her neck.

“there we go. finally.”

…?

… _I’ll just go back to sleep._

She allowed her face to go slack and waited for the sweet embrace of darkness. The inevitable feeling of sinking into the abyss was bound to come soon, right?

…Eventually? … _Any second now?_

“i know you’re awake,” Sans denounced from above her, “i saw your face twitch.”

Frisk scowled, her nose contorting irritably before forcing unwilling eyelids to open. Above her greeted the only two people she apparently was allowed to see for the rest of her life, and behind them was a massively blinding yet glittering lamp.

_Does the shop sell forty-inch lamps now?_

It was so pretty… and bright… her retinas were being disintegrated by it but who cares? Certainly not Frisk.

She lifted an arm in the air, hovering towards it as if her bones were somehow long enough to reach the source. But she failed miserably, and ultimately a gapped hand grasped her wrist, pushing it back down to her side.

Well, that was enough action for today!

Closing her eyes was definitely not a chore…

“is there something wrong? did we screw it up?” Sans’ too-fast voice sounded nervous, reaching speeds that of an auctioneer.

“She is on a lot of medication, try to remember that.”

“ok. hey,” she felt a gentle hand cupped hers, “speak to me, kiddo?”

With her eyes still shut, a frown etched upon her face. What was there to say? Was there a conversation she zoned out of? Regardless, she hoped the young monster would give up and leave her alone, a feat that shouldn’t be too hard given his lazy persona.

“shit, what if we did hit the cerebellar cortex? we need to take it out—”

“You worry too much, Sans.”

She felt a finger vigorously press back an eyelid, submitting to a pinprick of light flashing into her pupil, floating back and forth a couple of times before disappearing.

“Observe, there is pupillarity response. The child is simply choosing not to react, an implication of the medication.”

The expression on Sans’ face shifted from worry to frown to understanding within seconds.

“ok…” shaky hands ran over his face, grimacing stressfully, “god, what if we’ve fucked this up?”

The taller skeleton shook his head, flitting the penlight in circles between his fingers, “Everything is stable. Again, you worry.”

Intrigued, Frisk reached out for the appliance, much to the surprise of the two scientists. “Can I have?” she attempted to communicate with flailing hands.

Amused, Gaster glanced between Frisk and his device while Sans sighed haggardly with relief. “You want this?” he waggled the penlight in front of her.

She nodded, “Mmhm. Can I?”

“Of course.” Reaching out towards Frisk, the child managed to grab it with both hands, staring at it curiously as if having never seen such a device before.

Small fingers searched the cylinder metal, flitting the switch back and forth, the light turning on and off… it was _very_ interesting. While she kept herself amused with that, Gaster, seeming quite satisfied going by the eyebrow quirk, spun a one-eighty and headed off.

Frisk gazed up at Sans. “Did you know it could do this?”

_On off on off on off on off on off…_

Sans snorted, “yep, what, you’ve never seen one before?”

“It’s so… pretty… but also not?”

“heheh,” the small skeleton sat upon the table alongside her, taking the device itself into his own hands. “if only we could keep you on those meds forever. you’re real funny. and also quite nerve-wracking.”

“It’s so cool,” she murmured, wide-eyed, “I want one!”

He grinned, “jeez, you’re a weird one. we can getcha a freakin’ penlight if it makes you happy. or a torch, that’s even bigger.”

Frisk gaped, “You mean… a _big_ light?” she raised her object of deity in the air, “Even bigger than this?”

Sans looked as if he was hiding the onset of pain behind his expression. “yes. there are lights bigger than that.”

“Hehe, just wait until you go outside!”

Frisk’s eyes lit up properly for the first time in a long time.

_**“Mama!”**_ she practically shrieked, darting upright to get off the makeshift bed.

“hey hey hey, no no, stay there,” Sans fretted, thrusting an arm wrapped around her stomach. “looks like my old man finally let you in, huh?”

Toriel smiled, her focus entirely on the child whilst Sans released her from his hold. “Yes. He seems slightly… happier, if that’s even possible…” the last few words came out as a whisper, the two friends snickering amongst themselves.

“yeah, he figured out a way to help frisk. and we’ve put it through a stress test, and it seems to work fine now, didn’t implode that time. so yeah, i guess he’s happy he finally got it to work.”

“I see…” Toriel studied him for a moment before turning to Frisk. “Dr Gaster did say that he needed me in to talk about aftercare. It must be really something.”

Sans pursed his mouth into a thin line. “yeah, just having it in the wrist wasn’t doing it. so we’ve put it her, you know,” he pointed at his skull.

“Ah.” The queen tried her best not to look vaguely aghast and concerned. She turned towards Frisk. “My child, does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, Ma, it’s okay. It sort of aches a bit, but I think it will go away eventually.”

As if on cue, the royal scientist entered the room, straightening himself out upon noticing Toriel. “Hello, your highness,” he studied her, then Frisk, before gesturing to a nearby seat, “Please, sit down.”

Toriel nodded, seating herself beside the child. Gaster followed suit, along with Sans.

“I have tested the device extensively before implanting it into Frisk’s body, including numerous stress tests both simulated and purposefully stimulated. As of so far, there have been no faults.”

“Okay,” the queen frowned, her face falling, the heaviness of the situation suddenly dawned upon her. “What should I do to look after her?”

He hummed in thought, bringing out his notepad from his coat pocket. Carefully, he flipped through the various pages scrawled on in unintelligible letters, before he seemed to find what he needed.

“For the first few weeks I need reports to be fed back to me on the implant data. I have prepared a simple device that transmits the information from the implant to the device. I only ask of you to deliver the information to me in whichever way you deem fit.”

She nodded—that wasn’t too hard. “Okay, I can do that. Is there anything else?”

Gaster averted his gaze from his clipboard to Frisk. “Aside from that, simply keep her under close eye for a while. I have only one real concern that could not be simulated but is still a possibility.”

_Here we go…_

“Okay,” she murmured again, slowly and wearily, “What is it?”

There was a brief pause as the scientist tried to find the best way to phrase the sentence to the protective mother. “To be frank with you, seizures are still a possibility. I’m not expecting generalised tonic-clonic seizures, electrical activity in the brain should not be altered to such a magnitude by the implant to cause a disturbance significant enough—”

“gaster.”

“…”

“Minor seizures are possible, major seizures are extremely unlikely.”

Toriel blinked. “…Thank you…?” she narrowed her eyes in confusion and disbelief, “But I am confused. Why is this happening to the child in the first place?”

Oh, right. She hadn’t been there for any of the explanations and probably wasn’t even kept in the loop when things _did_ go awry.

Gaster flipped through some more pages of his notebook, before settling on something. “The child has inherited magic from their parents. This is an event not seen for a millennia, and as such, has developed a hereditary disorder from her ancestry’s genetic DNA that affects the way her body handles magic.”

He paused, waiting for the clueless mother to process this snowball of information.

“This implant is a means to control the excessive consumption of vital resources such as food and water, restoring the body to a more natural balance. I am hopeful that this will give the child an excellent and relatively normal shot at life.”

Toriel stared at him vacantly, no doubt oblivious to everything he had just said.

Then she uttered, “Has anyone ever told you that your explanations sound like something straight out a textbook?”

Gaster paused, then released the tension from his body. “They have, actually.”

Sans snorted.

“Well, you certainly know what you are talking about, but I sure don’t!” she chortled, gazing down towards Frisk. She was half-lidded and likely falling asleep.

Gaster didn’t see the humour behind it. “What about it do you not understand?” the question was asked with genuine intent, but Toriel glowered.

“I am not stupid, if that is what you are insinuating.”

Sans exhaled. “don’t start this again, c’mon,” he met Toriel’s gaze, “tori, it’s really important you understand what’s going on, ‘cause if something happens and you don’t notice, and we’re not there to check on her, something could go… really wrong.”

Sighing, the queen relaxed, shaking her head meekly, “I apologise, I am just a bit overwhelmed by all of this. It’s a lot to take in. But I understand what I have to do.”

“I understand.” Gaster tucked away his notebook, raising to a standing stance, “You may take her home now. Just remember that for the first few weeks, especially days, I need information on absolutely everything.”

Toriel nodded, “Of course, I understand. Oh, she will be so pleased that she can finally go home!”

“cool. in that case i’ll start taking her off the machines,” Sans rose to stand also, gently manoeuvring himself around Frisk as to not wake her.

“Could you hold onto her for just a few more hours?” Toriel asked, averting her gaze from the skeleton’s to the floor, “I need to get the home ready for her return.”

The two scientists both nodded simultaneously.

“Thank you. I will be back in a little while.” She headed towards the exit, a jolly spring to her step.

Sans waited for the door to flutter shut before heavily sighing. “is it a good idea to be releasing her this early?”

Gaster was already making his way to her side, “I am confident she will heal faster in her own home. The test results look positive. But I have noticed something whilst the time passed,” he gently nudged the child’s shoulder, frowning at the sheen layer of sweating beading on her forehead. “Sans, can you find three weeks-worth of painkillers for the child?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. “eyup, gimme a sec,” and sauntered off to the back room.

Gaster nudged Frisk’s shoulder again, a little more forceful this time, a wakeup gesture.

Frisk groaned at the intrusion, slowly coming to. He lay a hand on her forehead, feeling for a fever which wasn’t there. Considering she had just been taken off the machines, he had a theory.

“Are you in pain?”

To his surprise, she shook her head. “No… no, m’fine. Just wanna go to sleep.”

“Really?” he took her pulse by wrist, “Your mother is going to take you home soon. We are just waiting for her to get back.”

Her eyes brightened up at that. “Already? I mean, that’s good! I can go home?!”

“Yes,” he offered a genuine smile, then dropped her wrist and headed to the beginning of the bed. “Lean forward for me.”

She obeyed. “Does that mean I can eat whatever I want!?”

Hands searched the base of her skull, pressing against the slightly-throbbing wound. “You can, although I would take it slow.”

“I have _so many_ burgers to make up for at Grillbys. You know, you can still come with us at some point, if you want?”

Gaster smirked, dropping his hands from her head and returning to the foot of the bed. “Perhaps I will,” he snatched up another odd-looking device thingy and approached her, “Open.”

She did, then closed her mouth over what was probably a weird looking thermometer.

Excited eyes flew around the room, clearly planning out everything she could possibly think of and no doubt trying to plan it all for one day.

A few moments later and he withdrew the device, checking the results. To her relief, lest all her plans be ruined, he seemed content.

“Everything looks alright. Perhaps you are just stressed.”

She shrugged, wriggling back down under the blankets. But the scientist wasn’t finished yet. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Diving a hand into her pocket, Frisk nodded, reaching for her phone and slapping it into the man’s hand. “Why?”

Her question went unanswered, unsurprisingly, before he handed it back to her. Frisk glanced at the screen to see what he had done; to her surprise, he added his own number as a contact.

She glanced up at him.

“If you need help, you know where to find me.”

Smiling with undying appreciation, she nodded gleefully, “Thank you! I will! I… uh…” she paused, took a breath, and continued. “Actually… I’m kinda bad with words, but thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me. Honestly.”

Gaster averted his gaze; clearly the conversation was rapidly leaning out of his comfort zone. Gratitude was a horrible emotion he didn’t want to deal with. “No thanks needed, it is my job.”

“Uh-huh,” she grinned cheekily, “Sure, it’s just your job.”

The man was saved by the sound of a door opening, the motherly creature walking back in, spotting Frisk, and striding towards her.

“I’m ready now. Is she ready?”

“ready as she’ll ever be,” Sans retorted, giving Frisk a gentle clap on the back before offering a hand to help up. “real slowly now. we’ll walk you back to the car.”

Taking the hand of her mother in one hand and Sans in the other, Frisk waddled across the lab floor, a feat that she hadn’t achieved for the weeks she had been here. Not only was she now walking properly, but she was also going _home!_

This really did feel like a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow his invention worked!!! 
> 
> maybe.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk goes back to a completely normal life where absolutely nothing goes wrong at all....

_“I’m ready now. Is she ready?”_

_“ready as she’ll ever be,” Sans retorted, giving Frisk a gentle clap on the back before offering a hand to help up. “real slowly now. we’ll walk you back to the car.”_

_Taking the hand of her mother in one hand and Sans in the other, Frisk waddled across the lab floor, a feat that she hadn’t achieved for the weeks she had been here._

_This really did feel like a long time coming._

**...** **...**

Three months without incident so far.

It seemed like a short period of time, but for Frisk, the days dragged on for _s o. l o n g._

She was very quickly getting fed up with the protective swarm she was encased in, both by friends and family.

_You can’t do this, you can’t do that, just in case you trigger the device!!_

God damn it…

Getting out the lab was great, but as of recent days, she was practically stuck in her bedroom. It had been a long and painful process to get them to let her join in with their games—going back to school or even in the park. The entire outside word was ‘dangerous’ and quite frankly she was sick of being shut off in her little bubble!

On the other hand, they _were_ in Grillbys right now, having finally convinced Gaster to tag along. So, him, Toriel, Sans, Papyrus and Frisk all huddled round a table. It was hardly the right place for a gathering—usually the tables were for individuals after all, but it would do.

It might even be called a celebration.

Staring at each person in front of her, Frisk tried to remember why she was here. Not in a _dark_ sense, but more…

More…

_God I’m tired._

“Do you want my fries, my child?”

Frisk forced herself to glance up, her eyes begging to stay immobile and drifting off into space, not _focusing_ on something or _someone_ that demanded her attention.

Besides, she hadn’t even finished yet.

“Maybe when I finish mine, thank you,” she politely declined, picking up a fork to dig into a lovely golden chip—but there wasn’t any.

All four of them were staring at her.

How embarrassing.

“Erm,” she giggled, “Maybe I will have yours then, thanks!”

The other three laughed, except of course the one remaining impassive skeleton that had just taken to watching her menacingly above his glasses.

_Better prove I can actually eat it._

_Please don’t worry about me…_

She stuck a fork across the table and dug into Toriel’s fries. They were colder than expected, but still nice. Grillby did some _really good_ fries here.

Then, a weird but exciting thought popped into her head.

What if… _what if I heat it up with fire magic?_

This would be the perfect opportunity to prove to her friends that she was capable of using magic freely now. _Controlled_ magic that wouldn’t set the entire building on fire.

Frisk glanced between everyone around the circular table; Toriel, Sans and Papyrus were distracted by their own little conversation. Gaster seemed to have taken to staring daggers into his untouched glass of wine as if it’s existence offended him somehow.

Raising a hand, she was pleasantly surprised to see a nice little ball of red flame flicker to life in her hand, controlled and quite a magnificent sight to behold.

“wow kid, that’s pretty neat,” Sans craned his head, intrigued, then turned to Toriel, “you can do that too, right?”

The queen snickered, mirroring the child’s action’s and flickering her own ball of flame to life in the palm of her hand—it was slightly larger than Frisk’s own. “Of course, but remember I’ve had many years of practice.”

“That’s so strange! And also very cool!” Papyrus’ eyes were wide with amazement. “Queen Toriel is your adoptive mom and now you have similar powers! What are the chances!?”

Frisk cautiously lowered her hand to the chips, being careful not to burn them. Nostrils flaring with pride, the lukewarm fries began to smoke, heating up in her first ever successful run at practical magic. She took a bite, stunned at how nice they truly were, perhaps even better than before!

In fact, they were so good, that once she lifted a fork again five minutes later, there was nothing left to pick! She had eaten all of her fries so quickly!

“hungry, were you?” Sans sneered, then gestured his head towards the bar, “here, do you want more? i’ll getcha some more.”

_I’ve already had two platefuls…_

_As much as I want more…_

“No thanks,” she smiled, to which Sans just shrugged and made a _suit yourself_ noise from the back of his throat.

Picking up her glass of cola, a fuzziness washed through the forefront of her mind, through her chest and out the tips of her fingers.

_That must be a really good cola._

She lifted the glass again in an attempt to drink more, only for the feeling in her dominant hand to go tingly. She blinked. Placed the glass down. Blinked again. Then flapped her hand vicariously, ignoring the deepening scowl on the elder skeletons face. The others seemed far too distracted to notice her dumb predicament.

A heaviness passed through her chest. She blinked again.

Inhaling. Exhaling.

She inhaled deeper.

Exhaled deeper.

The touch of hand under the table wrapping around her wrist broke Frisk out of her fuzzy mindset, the tell-tale signs of an intrusive skeleton trying to check her pulse. She shot him an angry glare.

Can’t she just be _tired_ in _peace_ …?

That tiredness soon took a turn for the worst, forming into a numbness that were slowly taking over every limb in her body. Frisk wearily glanced up through a blurry haze, attempting to find the disquieted skeleton whilst struggling to think of a way to get his attention. It wasn’t needed though, he was already staring straight at her.

While the others laughed amongst themselves, probably from alcohol and Papyrus’s perpetual joyful attitude, Frisk locked eyes with the more sombre Gaster.

Through sheer effort, she could just about see him subtly signing with his hands, _Are you alright?_

She paused, just for a brief moment, and was about to say _yes,_ but self-preservation took over. She shook her head.

Gaster’s stare shifted to the state of her hands. Gazing over at them for herself, she noticed they were trembling. Gaster’s eyes returned back to hers, and she couldn’t help but find herself mouthing the word, _help._

Only a second later and the man spoke up with deftly pushed-down urgency. “Frisk, can you assist me in ordering some more fries for myself?”

Despite the numbness in her tongue, she forced herself to reply, “Kay.”

With the scrape of a chair, Gaster stood up first, so Frisk followed suit. She waited for him to circle past her, before dragging her trembling legs after him. Distantly, she felt his hand grasp hers, as if a parent walking their child around a busy bar.

Her vision was absolutely blurred, only blobs of colour and bright, loud sounds firing through her ear-drums.

“ _Help.”_ She whispered against the ringing in her ears again, hopefully out of earshot from the others. Her hand was squeezed in return, letting her know her plea didn’t go unheard.

Frisk had no idea where she was being led, but eventually there was the sound of a door slamming, and the noisy world went quiet.

With the knowledge she was out of sight from everyone, her legs buckled, and she collapsed, feeling the scientist’s arm catching her around the stomach.

She panted, eyes watering from both confusion and dread, before she found herself being rolled onto her side.

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” the man’s distant voice was yet so close, hands searching the back of her head.

“I f-feel li-like I…I… pass out…”

“Don’t do that,” he urged, two thumbs pressing against her neck, “Try to stay awake while I figure out what’s going on.”

She nodded, closing her eyes. Her head was _pounding._

“My head…” she slurred, feeling her muscles begin to lock up. And then she was gone.

Her muscles contracted, spasming on the ground uncontrollably as her entire body seized. A hushed unintelligible word, probably in Wingdings, was hissed from behind. Struggling to catch her breath, she tried to whimper, but no sound came out, wheezing noises producing from her throat as the air rushed out of her body.

Fresh hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, the only thing she was able to do voluntarily.

A hand grasped hers, and quietly she could hear him mutter, “ _I am here. I am here.”_

She groaned, or tried to, her feet and fingers beginning to cramp up.

And then it stopped.

Frisk wheezed, panting for breath, moaning from sheer confusion and uncertainty.

The man’s face swam into view, looking mighty distressed, perhaps even more so than she was.

“Is it done?”

She nodded, shuddering for air.

“Alright,” his fingers found their way to the base of her skull again, followed by three consequent beeps coming from behind. “It’s alright. I did say it was extremely unlikely but there was still a chance this would happen.”

Another stray tear dripped from the bridge of her nose and down her cheek. “M’scared,” she whimpered, hands trembling again at those words.

Gaster sighed. “I know. I am sorry.”

“What happened?” she whispered hoarsely, “Why am I on the floor?”

The man’s agitated expression morphed into a scowl. “You don’t remember?”

“What’s happening?” her breaths contorted into short gasps, “What’s happening?!” she struggled to move, watching as the other man shuffled closer, as if preparing for something.

“It will be over soon. Just breathe.”

“I can’t, I c—” her body seized again, muscles rigid and convulsing helplessly.

“Alright,” she felt a hand firmly secure itself to her hip, “Alright.”

When she came out of that one, the first words out of her mouth were “make it stop!”

“I can’t,” he looked crestfallen, “This is a result of the implant adjusting to your magic. Breathe through it.”

She moaned into her arm, nose wrinkling as she stifled another sob, waiting for the next one to come.

Ten seconds passed.

Twenty.

Thirty.

A whole minute…

Nothing happened.

Yet she was too afraid to let it go.

“I wanna die,” she croaked, “I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die I wanna—”

“Hush. It will be alright.”

“Just kill me right now.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“If you don’t then I’ll reset!”

“We both know you can’t do that.”

“I can! And I will! And I’ll… I’ll…” her face contorted with tears, sobs wracking her body. She lay like that for a while, waiting for the next episode to inevitably come on.

But a couple more minutes passed, and nothing happened.

Gaster eventually released the death grip he had on her arm. “There you go,” his usually vacant voice was oddly comforting, “See, it is over now.”

Frisk snivelled, hesitant to believe it herself. After a low growl, she managed to utter, “W-what the hell w-was that?”

“A seizure, this was the first time the implant came into contact with your magic.” Gaster’s expression was grave, “As I warned you a while ago, there was always a very slim possibility of this happening, especially of this severity. But you were always a very slim probability child.”

Frisk snorted despite herself, shaking her head and groaning out of self-pity. “Do we have to tell the others?”

“Hmm,” he craned his head, “We need not worry them. As long as this does not become a regular occurrence, it will be alright.”

She snivelled, still overwhelmed with what just happened.

“I guess…” she snivelled again, “I guess now we have to go back and act like nothing happened…”

“I can take you home if you prefer.”

Frisk rubbed a palm over her tear-stained face, “No… no, they’ll suspect something is up. Let’s just go back.”

Gaster began to stand, offering the child a hand up. “As you wish.”

**...** **...**

Later that night, Frisk was finding it incredibly hard to sleep. The clock on her beside kept ticking, every minute that passed a frustrating reminder of her inability to simply fall asleep.

There was one thing that continued to mull over in her head: an image of today’s earlier events playing on repeat. Inwardly, there was a gnawing worry situated at the back of her mind, wondering, _what if that happens again when I sleep?_

_What if I never wake up?_

_What if I wake up but I can’t move?_

Those were irrational thoughts—she knew. But simply the knowledge of their unwarranted existence wasn’t enough to quell the relentless insomnia she had gotten herself worked up into.

In the end, she accepted the reality that she was likely still going to be awake until sunrise.

The digits on the clock struck 4:07.

**...** **...**

Dawn broke.

It was around 7:36 when heavy footsteps traversing down the stairs could be heard, the queen getting ready for another day of being… the queen. _And_ a teacher.

 _Why don’t she just quit being queen and stick with being a teacher?_ Frisk wondered absentmindedly, _No wonder she’s never around anymore…_

The fatigued child rubbed her eyes, staring off into space at the barren ceiling. She must have been lost like that for a while, as eventually when the door pinged open she jerked awake in surprise, the noise catching her off guard.

“Good morning, dear,” Toriel smiled sweetly from the doorway, “I’m off to work now, I have made you breakfast downstairs.”

Frisk nodded slowly, gradually moving to an upright position. With great effort, she fought against closing her heavy eyelids.

Her face must have come into the golden morning light as her mother suddenly gasped.

“Oh, you look awful! Did you get much sleep?” she pattered over towards her, seeking to get a closer look, “You should go back to sleep!”

Frisk tried her best to smile and looked down at her lap. “No mama, I’m ok. I just had a nightmare but it’s nothing…

_Why is it so easy to lie?_

“What was it about?” compassion overtook her features, seating herself on Frisk’s bed despite the imminent time constraints, “You can tell me all about it.”

Frisk scratched the back of her head and gave a one-sided shrug. “Umm… well, I don’t really remember now,” she offered, grinning sheepishly when her mother narrowed her eyes, “It’s sorta gone from me…”

Toriel exhaled an exasperated sigh, “I can tell when you’re lying to me, child. You never forget your dreams, you used to always tell me about them.”

Hesitantly, Frisk blinked, turning herself away from her pushy mother. “It’s okay, I just don’t wanna think about it…”

Shaking her head, Toriel leaned forward to stand, giving Frisk a pat on the shoulder. “Alright, I know you won’t tell me anything when you get like this…” the door creaked as it swung open, “I have to go to work, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Nodding quickly, Frisk got to her feet and followed her mom out the bedroom door. “Okay. Thanks for the breakfast!”

“No problem, dear,” she jogged down the stairs incredibly upbeat. Frisk tailed from behind and entered the kitchen. “Remember to eat a lot and take a nap at some point!”

“I will mama!” Frisk took a bite out of her buttered toast, “Thanks for the breakfast! Again! It’s yummy!”

“Enjoy, have a great day!” Toriel called in a sing-song voice as she left the house.

The door swung shut. Immediately, Frisk dropped the toast from her hand, the crust clattering back onto the plate.

_I’m not hungry…_

**...** **...**

Alone, Frisk sat in her room, two hands in the air holding tiny balls of magic. She knew that this was probably a bad idea, playing with fire, literally, by herself with no-one to watch.

Sure, she sent Gaster’s lab up in flames… but that was on purpose, and _before_ she had this chip in her head. Now it was controlled, a divine flicker of flame understating the real power that hid from within.

“Mama’s gonna be so jealous,” she giggled to herself as a slightly larger flame sparkled to life in her palms, “I’m gonna have more magic than anyone ever. It’ll be so cool!”

Moreover, nothing bad had even happened yet! There hadn’t been… adverse effects to using her magic, especially for this long. Maybe she’ll even get over that horrible memory that wouldn’t go away. That kept gnawing at her stomach and flashing raw in her mind every time she closed her eyes.

Frisk shuddered, but quickly shifted her focus back onto her little magic-wielding game: How big can you make the big flame balls before you almost hit something?!

_Ding dong!_

Oh the door!

Jumping up, Frisk bolted down the stairs, bouncing across the wooden floor. Screeching to a halt, she threw the door open.

And, there, standing before her was…

“Human!!”

“Hey, Papyrus.”

What was he doing here?

Papyrus smiled, “I thought you might be bored, and you weren’t answering your messages, so I came to you instead!!”

Oh… right. “Sorry, I’ve been distracted all day. Mama is at work, but you can come in!”

The tall skeleton shrugged, “Actually I thought maybe we could go to Undyne’s house and hang out…??”

“Yeah, ok!” she could totally show off her magic round there, “Sounds great!”

“ ** _Finally_** , you _**nerds**!! _What took you so long!?”

“We came as fast as we could, Undyne! The human has very small legs!”

Frisk pouted, peering down at herself. “I do not!”

“Pah hah hah!!” Undyne roared, chucking her head back, “Are you kidding?! You’ve got the tiniest legs on a human I’ve ever seen!”

Desperately glancing around the room for a distraction, Frisk noticed the TV on pause.

“We watching that?” she pointed towards the object of interest; an anime of some sort was brazenly presented on the screen.

“Yeah! It’s a new series and I’ve decided we’re gonna watch it everyday until it finishes! Or we can binge the entire show in _ONE DAY!!”_

“That sounds like fun, Undyne!”

“Sounds cool… but I don’t think I can stay that long.”

Undyne gave her a playful slap on the back, “Don’t be so lame!”

_Sigh._

Undyne, Papyrus and Frisk all gathered around the TV, snuggling up on the sofa.

“I’ll make the popcorn!” the enthused fish soared upright, bounding towards the kitchen. “Papyrus don’t start it without me!”

The skeleton scoffed, “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

As they relaxed to the sound of Undyne rummaging through the cupboards, Papyrus threw his long arms against the back of the sofa and sighed contently.

“Human, I am so happy things are ok again!” Papyrus looked as if someone just handed him a new-born kitten, “I was really worried for a while, but I didn’t want to intrude…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it…” Frisk’s eyes averted to the floor, fidgeting with her hands, “I don’t… I don’t really wanna talk about it, but thank you.”

“That’s ok, I understand!” his eyes sparkled with kindness, “But I want you to know that I’m really glad we still have a cool friend like you around!”

She did her best to smile at him. “Thanks, Pap. You’re so cool, you know that?”

The self-assured skeleton’s nostrils flared with pride, “Why, of course!”

“Hey, are you nerds having a heartfelt conversation without me?”

_Oh, Undyne is back._

“Well, good!” she beamed, scrambling over to the sofa, “I’m crap at that! Here’s the popcorn!” she slammed the large bowl onto Papyrus’ lap, then jumped in-between her two friends.

Papyrus wrestled the remote from depths of the couch and began their week-long binge.

Frisk repressed a yawn; two hours into the series and she was already getting fed up. There was the sound of a hand ramming into the messy bowl of half-popped popcorn before the result was thrown in her face.

The smell of toasted sugar wafted through her nose. “Hey, I cooked this for you! Are you gonna eat it or what!?”

She shrugged, “Not really a popcorn person, you and Pap can have it all. Thanks though.”

Crossing her arms, Undyne paused the show, on a thrilling dramatic cliff-hanger no less, and made an effort to stand. “Well now I feel kinda rude for eating without you. Hey, you like burgers right? I can make a real fine microwaved burger!”

“Haha! No doubt about that! But nah, M’not hungry,” she smiled sweetly.

The fish guffawed with bemusement and plummeted back onto the couch, “Okay, if you say so. Feel free to tap into our popcorn if you get bored.”

_I’m already bored._

“Kay, thanks.”

The exhilarating show continued to play.

**...** **...**

Home. Finally.

Originally, there were no plans for today, least of all to spend any of it socialising when she was strictly bound to bedrest. But hanging out with Undyne and Papyrus watching anime while deftly avoiding the subject of food wasn’t what she expected. 

It was still fun, though.

Frisk began to amble up the stairs, just when she heard the door thump shut.

“Frisk dear, I’m home!”

She grinned, performing an immediate u-turn on the stairs and racing down to find her mom.

“Mama!” she shrieked happily, giving her a warm hug. Or rather the other way around.

“How have you been? Did you manage to get any rest?”

_Oh… yeah. Rest. I forgot I haven’t slept today._

“I’m good! But nah, I hung out with Undyne and Pappy instead and it was fun!”

There was a hint of hesitance in the mother’s eyes, as if about to reprimand her, before the _look_ disappeared and she released something of a sigh.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re having fun. Did Papyrus cook you both some spaghetti?”

Frisk giggled, “Nope! There was popcorn but I wasn’t hungry. We watched anime instead!”

“Oh,” she cocked an eyebrow in surprise, “Your breakfast filled you up then? I shall make that more often!”

“Um…” _Now I’m definitely getting a scolding,_ “I wasn’t that hungry earlier either, hehe!”

Toriel’s expression soured. “Are you telling me you haven’t eaten at all today?”

Wincing, Frisk took a step back, her milk chocolate eyes blinking with feigned innocence, “I just wasn’t hungry! It happens!”

Whilst the mother creature analysed her child’s face for deception, she tailed towards the kitchen and began to open various cupboards. “I am making you something right now.”

“But I’m not hungry!” Frisk wailed, hugging her stomach, “I don’t wanna eat!”

“You have to eat _something_.” Her voice had shifted into authority mode now, defending the well-being of her child, “I’ll just make you something small, but at least it’s something.”

Defeated, Frisk pouted and trudged back into the living room, kicking her feet as she walked.

_Then I just won’t eat anything… you can’t control my stomach._

**...** **...**

It was time to fall asleep again. Or in Frisk's terms, lay awake staring at the ceiling with a rumbling stomach until dawn broke.

It was around 3am when her phone suddenly vibrated.

_“Message at 3:07 from WDG: Are you awake?”_

Frowning, she texted her reply, “ _Yeah. About to sleep.”_ Well, _that_ was a lie, but it sounded normal enough.

For a brief moment she wondered why he wasn’t asleep either… but then remembered who she was talking to.

_“Message at 3:11 from WDG: Tell me how you feel.”_

Frisk nearly snorted at the blatant statement.

Why was he messaging her at 3 o'clock in the morning to ask if she was feeling alright?

Before she could reply, another message came through.

_“Message at 3:12 from WDG: When was the last time you ate?”_

She felt her blood run cold.

_How does he know...?_

Frisk stared at the screen vacantly for minutes on end, before coming to a stark realisation.

_The chip. The bloody chip._

_He’s probably gone through the reports from the implant and somehow found out._

Either that or her mom had blabbed to him.

A few minutes passed.

_“Message at 3:19 from WDG: Do not ignore me.”_

Frisk swallowed, shivering under the blankets before forcing herself to type out: _I’m not hungry._

She was beginning to regret ever giving him her number.

_“Message at 3:26 from WDG: It seems we need to have a chat.”_

At that, Frisk's nerves got the better of her, turning off her phone and holding the phantom pains in her stomach, heart thrumming with anxiety.

Maybe he'd think she'd fallen asleep, it was three in the morning after all.

It was just one day. _One day_ where she didn’t eat anything and _everyone_ was on her back!

She lay awake for the longest hour of her life, clutching her duvet as if the demon from her nightmares was coming to pay a visit, and at any second.

_Why can’t I just get on with my life!_

_I don’t want to have to keep doing... this!_

Eventually, she crawled out of bed to find a distraction. Coming across several books on the wooden shelf, she swept them all into her arms, carrying them over to her bed. Then, she searched for a light.

A small torch would do.

Creeping back into bed, she hid under the covers with her plethora of books, an orange light guiding her eyes through the darkness.

She remained like that for hours.

**...** **...**

It was like de ja vu. The clock struck 7:05, Toriel had entered her room announcing she was going to work, and Frisk hadn't so much as blinked last night.

“Breakfast is downstairs,” Toriel heaved a weary breath as she smiled, “Please, try to eat something this time.”

Frisk nodded.

She waited for the front door to close before slipping out of bed. Tiptoeing across the hallway, she peered around the corner and down the stairs... to see none other than Gaster staring furiously straight at her from down the other end.

Making a sound somewhere between a splutter and a cough, Frisk turned and bolted back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eating is very important for monsters. Wonder why that is?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk's stress levels meet an all time high
> 
> *Trigger warning for suicide thoughts please beware*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a long time to write because I was trying to figure out how best to write this... earlier on in the story we sort of touched upon Frisk's suicidal intentions when she first dropped down to the underground, but here, we see it happen again, so huge TRIGGER WARNING for anyone that cannot read into those topics. I've been in this situation before so I tried to write it as best as I could, but it's different for different people... hence Frisk.

**_TW TW TW TW -- Suicidal Thoughts !!! TW TW TW TW_ **

**_......._ **

_She waited for the front door to close before slipping out of bed._

_Tiptoeing across the hallway, she peered around the corner and down the stairs... to see none other than Gaster staring straight at her from the other end._

_Making a sound somewhere between a splutter and a cough, Frisk turned and bolted back to her room, slamming the door behind her._

**_......._ **

She was trapped.

As soon as the door slammed shut, she threw her back to it, sliding down to the floor and releasing a petrified groan that morphed into a grating shrill screech.

Looking for an escape, **_any_** escape, her glance flickered sideways, assessing the room as if a door was magically going to appear from the sheer will of thinking about it.

Out the corner of her eye, she spotted it _–_ a window.

Frisk tottered towards the only viable escape route, drawing back unopened curtains and sliding the sash open.

_…It’s a lot higher up then I remember. Huh._

The nonchalant thought was accompanied by another, more horrid idea, an internal persuasion.

_I remember the last time I looked down this high it was on Mt Ebott._

“...”

What if...

_Maybe if I do it, it'll reset._

“...”

_Then maybe I won’t have these powers anymore..._

“...”

Heart thumping in her throat, Frisk climbed the windowsill, one foot dangling out into the open air and one sticking in an awkward position against the wall.

_What am I doing?_

She whimpered, dropping her head to her bent knees as her heart began to hammer in her chest full-force, a sickening nausea rising up her throat.

_I can’t do this anymore…_

Elbowing the window wider, a gush of cold air brushed against her sleep deprived face, the world a messy confusing _horrible_ dream. She choked out a sob, uncontrollably shaking as she tried to shuffle further away from the safety of the windowsill.

Then she realised that wasn’t the wind on her face.

**_“Don't you dare.”_ **

Frisk jolted, limbs frozen by her sides from both the shock and the ominous blue light that encompassed her, keeping the harrowing plan from being explored any further.

She knew with her current powers it would be easy to overpower the man that had emerged from behind. All she had to do was act strong and convince him everything was going to be ok.

“I-I know it looks bad, but don't worry. I j-just want it to stop, y'know?” she whispered, face reddening as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Everything will stop if I do this.”

The corners of her eyes burned with the liquidised terror that wracked her every waking hour.

“I know. But this isn’t the way.”

Veering around, Frisk compelled herself to meet the eye of the hawk that wouldn’t stop following her, searching his face for hints of malevolence. The skeleton’s eyes flickered fanatically with adeptly masked bewilderment, deep set beneath heavily furious yet _horrified_ brows.

One simple tug would shrug him off, she knew this. Intense strain sparked in his eyes, trying so hard to pull the child away from the edge, but it was like trying to lift a boulder with one finger.

Frisk snorted sadly at his untimely weakness, turning back towards the cold sun.

“You would jump out of a window to get away from me?”

“What other way is there?”

“You were born with it. Whether you reset one time or one hundred, this will always happen.”

“…Nnhhh…” A whine found an escape through Frisk's lips—finally an element to the world she could not control. Her DNA.

Gaster cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice level. “Get down from there, we will talk about this.”

She snorted, “Or what? You can’t exactly do anything about it, I overpower you now.”

“Hmm.” There was a hint of hesitancy to his voice, “Indeed.”

“Indeed?” a scoff turned into a suppressed whimper, swinging herself around to the edge. Out the corner of her eye, a look of pure fear etched across the other man's face. “Now you’re mocking me.”

“Please, get away from the edge,” his voice almost wavered, frightening thoughts racing through his mind, “I am not mocking you. Think logically about this. We both know you can’t reset. We both know this goes further than that.”

“No,” Frisk shut her eyes, accepting this was how it finally ends. “I should have died the first time.”

Impulsively, she forced a foot to slip off the windowsill, a gush of cold breeze assaulting her face.

But it stopped.

Opening her eyes, Frisk choked out a breath—she was floating in mid-air.

The busy streets below, cars honking... and people screaming.

_They can see me._

_Oh god._

_I..._

_Idontwannahurtanyoneimscaredidontwannadothis..._

_It’s so high..._

_What am I doing... whatamidoingohgodohgodohno..._

She sucked in a breath, blinking owlishly over the aerial view of the street, but it didn’t do much to ease the panic. Another gasp, a whimper, a hoarse terrified guttural _scream._

Frisk was vaguely aware of her alienated hands trembling as if she was entering the grips of another seizure. The memory—the terror—the _helplessness_ —the loss of control while her limbs refused to obey, the utter resentment she had over the unwelcome magic that invaded her body and destroyed all sense of normality as she knew it.

“I can’t do it,” she curled up in the floating blue orb, sobbing, “What’s happening to me?” she croaked tearfully, being held up only by sheer blue magic from the man four stories above her, no-one could hear. But the world had to answer for it’s crimes. Why _was_ it this way?

_Is this really what I deserve?_

_I did everything I could to bring everyone up here. And I get this!_

“ _IT’S NOT FAIR!”_ she cried, unseeing as tears fogged her vision. Sucking in another breath, she let loose a bloodcurdling scream as if Gaster could somehow hear from so far away, the blue magic wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her _fall_ , “ ** _LET ME GO!”_**

Apparently her pleas were a pathetic display to be marvelled at to any deity that happened to be watching. The world became encompassed by lightning, flashing rapidly one after the other, until finally the view of the city turned into the view of her bedroom floor.

Blue light now gone, she wheezed, her jelly legs proceeding to connect with the ground as she abruptly vomited. For a moment, the response was silent, until she heard a frustrated growl from behind.

“No no no no,” she whispered hoarsely, crawling across the floor to get away from carefully observing eyes. She huffed, still half drooling, filled with nothing but humiliation and shame, her hoarse throat burning.

A presence by her side knelt down, the backside of a hand grazing against her forehead, before moving to encompass her wrist. It remained there for a moment, Frisk unmoving and refusing to meet his gaze. Finally, his hands retracted, the man releasing a sigh.

“ ** _Don’t_** do that again,” the breathless voice demanded, inescapable lethargy present in his voice as he inhaled with short gasps. Gaster’s eyes had narrowed to slits— the sheer force it must have took for him to keep the child afloat in mid-air whilst being met with her own doggedly vicious resistance, _then_ somehow managing to _teleport_ her back into the room was a marvel in itself.

“I-I can’t do it… “ she blubbed again, shuddering a shaky inhale before moaning through trembling lips. She pried her eyes away from his own unreadable gaze and curled herself into a fetal position, tucking her head into her arms, “I d-don’t wanna do this anymore… it’s n-not fair…” her eyes were puffy red, sagging against her ashen face and continuing to moan helplessly, her jaw slack on the floor.

Despite her rapidly deteriorating vision, she watched the other man tear open his _briefcase,_ or whatever the hell that was, at breakneck speed, not even hesitating when picking out a vial of something. She knew what this meant.

“ _NO!”_ she found herself screaming, kicking her feet against the floor as if it would propel her backwards, “ _LEAVE ME ALONE!”_

The man visibly forced his face to relax, hiding the evil device behind his back as if he weren’t about to rip the last piece of control from her.

“It’s alright,” he carefully kneeled closer, his eyes assessing her feeble form freaking out before him. “You are wildly out of control right now. Perhaps there is a malfunction.”

“ _I AM **NOT**!” _she was virtually having a contest with herself to see how loud she could scream, “ _DON’T TOUCH ME! I’LL—”_ she wheezed, forcing her magic to manifest into her trembling fingers, “ _I’LL-I’LL INCINCERATE YOU! YOU’RE NOTHING TO ME!”_

Her magic fizzled into nothing, the man’s accusation on the lack of control clearly had some form of truth to it. As such, Gaster continued to, _very_ slowly _,_ edge closer.

“I said _GET AWAY FROM ME!”_ Frisk kicked herself back further, frantically mustering the magic to resurface into her being, but it dispersed before it could take shape. She blinked, bewildered, before snapping her gaze towards Gaster, catapulting herself backwards. “No, no! No! NO! Please! _No!”_

Splaying her defiant hands over her temples in distress, she screamed so gratingly and so viciously that the subsequent sound was distorted to her ears.

The noise was abruptly halted by the nausea clawing up her throat, she tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. Parts of anxiety-induced vomit spilled out of her coughing, choking and gasping for breath on her hands and knees as if she were being strangled. Cool hands founds their way to her face, rolling her onto her side as she continued to cough up nothing from her refusal to eat.

“Breathe. _Breathe_. Calm down.” The other man’s voice tried it’s best to remain level and calm, but clearly the events laying out before him was beginning to take its toll.

Tears seemed to spill down her eyes without her permission, gagging on the invisible enemy. “E-Even…Even this…”

“What?”

“This… even this… I don’t want this…” she palmed the hair out of her eyes, spluttering, “I just want to reset… why… why… can’t I…” she blanched, nausea invading her system again.

The only colour she saw was white. She gurgled, panting so hard that for a moment she wondered if she was upside-down. But it felt like nothing. All that could be heard was a high-pitched whistle of ocean waves hissing in her ears. The next time she opened her eyes, her head had been manoeuvred into the crook of the man's lap.

“I didn’t mean to...didn’t mean to do any of that...”

A dull sting pricked her bicep, a rush of cold creeping up her quivering left arm. The numbing tingly feeling spread throughout her shoulder. “I know. Calm down.”

“Why…” she began, her eyes squeezed shut as the room span.

An exhausting weakness in her sluggish limbs meant Frisk could only yield as two hands wriggled their way under her arms, and the next thing she knew she was sliding across the floor, lifted into the air until she landed half-slouched onto his lap, head resting against his stomach.

“Hush. Relax, now.”

Aforementioned tingly wrist soon had two fingers curled around it, drifting delicately up her skin and searching for a point before pausing, pressing firmly into her cold veins.

With a deep breath, she tried again, “Why… are you still here?”

When no reply came, Frisk wondered if she had spoken loud enough. But eventually the man spoke.

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed her stomach. “I’m not important to you… you hardly know me… what are you always trying to help me?”

This time she knew his silence spoke in the way of thinking. “Perhaps I feel somewhat responsible.”

Frisk blinked, her watery eyes still constricting her vision. “For what? You said so yourself… I was born with it. None of this is your fault so you should just go.”

Even in her current state she could hear the elder scientist sigh quietly from behind her, clearly not comprehending a word she was saying.

“Is it so bad that I am trying to help?”

Frisk snorted, irritably wiping an eye as a stray tear fell. “It’s not even _like_ you. The only people you’re nice with is your kids. With everyone else you’re all hardass and mean and weird and kinda scary. Yet you’re still here.”

This time he really did remain quiet.

Hiding her face in her hands, she mumbled as more sobs threatened to wrack her body. “J-just go. Please.”

_Damn it, just be strong and stop crying for five minutes and maybe he’ll actually believe you!_

“I am not leaving.”

“ _Why?!”_ she scrunched her hair into her fingers, a growl working it’s way up her throat, “Just… _go!”_

“We both know that the second I leave, you will try again.”

_“So?!”_

“Do you really hold your life in such low regard?”

“ _I just want to reset!”_

“Then listen to the following words. **You can’t.”**

“I can! If I really _really_ want to and I will it then I can!”

“What part of _you can’t_ do you not understand?” he was beginning to raise his voice now, “This timeline is now constant and cannot be changed, reverted, edited or _reset._ If you jump out that window you will die, there is no going back.”

“Maybe—Maybe I’m just _fucking tired_ of living in this stupid _fucking_ timeline!” she shrieked, leaning away from him. “I hate this world! I hate it! I always have!” she wasn’t entirely surprised when an arm pulled her back down again.

“You are very distressed, I can see that.”

“Yeah, _no shit!_ It doesn’t take a _scientist_ to figure that out!”

A slight smirk twitched upon the man’s mouth. “Comedy. Right now?”

“No! Yes! I…” she threw her head in her hands, giving a bitter laugh, “I don’t know anymore…”

Out the corner of her eye, through the spaces between her fingers, she could see Gaster shut his eyes in exasperation, clearly becoming weary over her _understandably_ hostile behaviour.

“Would like something to help you calm down?”

 _“No!”_ Frisk growled into her hands, “Why do you keep trying to drug me!?”

“Because it works.”

She sniffed. “Hypocrite.”

“What?”

“You’re lecturing me over doing the right thing, yet you can’t even do it yourself.”

“I believe I _am_ doing the right thing. You see the opposite because you are afraid.”

“I’m not afraid!” she shut her eyes.

_Ok, maybe a little bit…_

She stared solemnly at her hands, speechless with how to proceed. It seemed no matter what she did, everything was either wrong or incorrect, and would leave her either incredibly unhappy or dead.

“I understand you are finding it difficult to cope with your situation regarding magic,” Gaster began, his tone somewhat softer now, “However, I would advise you to look over the reason why you so desperately seek to cut your life short. You are afraid, I understand that. You no longer have control over this world, I understand that too. But there are other ways in which this can be resolved, and all of them do not include your premature death.”

Too tired to fight him, she hiccupped, her erratic breathing now being washed over with… emptiness.

“…Yeah…”

It was becoming more and more likely she would fall asleep in the odd and unexpected comfort of scary man's lap, head nestling into his stomach. Trembling hands began to ease, although confused and striving to find something to cling onto. Eventually they settled for cloth, fuzzy and warm, grasping them with her fingers and refusing to let go.

There was a rich chuckle, then a weary sigh, the fingers around her wrist tightening.

“We are going back to the lab.”

Frisk squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head negative into the man's turtleneck, two arms capturing her own flailing ones protectively _just in case,_ “ _No_ …no!” she whined, her brain slowly comprehending his sentence, “I can't ... don't wanna...”

Her eyes locked with the window again, and she began _attempting_ to haul herself upright with intent to try again.

Before her eyes could even finish adjusting, the older man summoned a line of bones in front, hurling a stray arm over her torso—she nearly gagged again. “Stop this. There is another way.”

Frisk squirmed in his grasp, struggling to break free, “ _No there isn't!_ ” she cried with distress, “You don’t get it!”

There was a slither of emotion in those cold eyes. “Have you spoken to Sans about this?”

Surprised at the unexpected odd question, her expression mellowed slightly. “No?”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Why?” she hiccupped and ceased struggling, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I believe it would be good to talk. You two have more in common than you may think.”

Snivelling, she rubbed her tearful red eyes and offered a meek shrug. “What’re you talking about?”

The arms that were wrapped around her torso tightened, which probably suggested a bad thought washed through him.

Frisk put two and two together and stiffened.

_Sans._

“Oh…”

She wasn’t surprised when the only answer was silence. Decided, and given a new perspective to things, Frisk stopped fighting. _At least for now,_ she thought.

Emptily, she leant back into his oddly fuzzy turtleneck and relaxed with a great sigh, defeated.

“Well, now I dunno what to do…”

Maybe now that he knew she was calmer, he would let her walk… Out of the room and far away from the window, of course.

Frisk leaned forward, priming herself to stand before the blockade of a hand flew to her forehead and held her back. “No, stay here for now.”

She blinked, sprawling her legs out across the floor as if to prove a point. “But I wanna move…”

“You should’ve thought about that before you climbed out of the window.”

“That’s not fair!” she crossed her fanlike arms and legs, brows knitting into a frown. She could practically feel his eyes drilling into her back. “How long do I have to stay here!?”

Surely this was counterproductive!

“Until I feel confident it is safe to let you go.”

Sulking with a distasteful pout, Frisk slouched further down his stomach…hopefully far enough so that she’d slip under his grasp and crawl up and away then run for her life again… which would be promptly followed by capture and being hauled in the air with blue magic and locked in her room for three days.

Yeah, maybe not.

They sat in silence for a good while, Frisk finally having settled for curling up on the floor, the embodiment of a cat after a long day of doing absolutely nothing.

Staring at her knees, Frisk wrinkled her nose, her face once more distorting into soft cries.

She had _really_ messed up and this time there was no going back.

The mute sobbing went unheard, or ignored, for a while, leaving her to weep on her own. A distressed mewl worked it’s way up her throat, until finally she felt a hand graze against the back of her head.

“Try not to get distressed again. Stay calm.”

Clawing at the palms of her hands, Frisk shook her head, “I’m not... m'just...” she hiccupped, “Sad...”

“I know. I am sorry you feel that way.”

Frisk didn’t know what to do other than shrug. She felt Gaster shift his position, grunting in what was probably discomfort.

“You didn’t answer my text message.”

…” Huh?” Frisk blinked, bewildered at the irrelevant question.

“My text message last night. You didn’t answer it.”

“Yeah…? And?” she huffed, rubbing her eyes, “I was gonna go to sleep.”

“Why haven’t you been eating?”

Ok. The earlier predicament was back—trapped again and this time not allowed to even blink the wrong way.

“It was only a day, I dunno. Guess I wasn’t hungry.”

“I may have believed that if your ignorance to my question was not proceeded by you attempting to kill yourself.”

Frisk’s heart stopped. Her face blanched white, muscles stone rigid.

“Don’t… don’t say that,” she shuddered at the memory, “Just forget about it, ok? And don’t tell mom...”

“I won’t tell your mother, because I want you in my lab. And she would insist on keeping you here. So this time, I will work in your favour.”

She snorted, “Not _exactly,_ I don’t even _want_ to go to your lab. Maybe I’ll tell her myself, so I get to stay here.”

An exhausted sigh. “Suit yourself.”

Oh, wow. He gave up quickly. Usually a fifteen-minute-long argument would ensue from that.

_I’ll take my wins where I can find them._

_…Wait a minute._

“Was that a strategy to get me to tell my mom?”

There was a discreet chuckle from behind. “Perhaps.”

“Gah!” she groused, “You’re so mean...”

“Hm,” Gaster scoffed darkly, “If you say so.”

**_......._ **

**_......._ **

Eventually, the two had sat still long enough for Gaster to grant the child permission to move after fifty minutes of being curled up on the floor.

The plan was to tell Toriel, slowly of course, the rundown of what had just happened and the situation they were now in.

That was until they were actually put in a room with her.

“It’ll pass, yes? Children are quite prone to the inability of controlling their emotions. Give it a few days, she’ll feel better!” her eyes were kind, naïve even, but her smiling expression soon dropped when the unrelenting glare sent her way didn’t change. “What? What is it?”

When Gaster didn’t offer an answer, seemingly still internally fumbling over his words; Frisk’s gaze fell to her shoes.

Toriel threw him a look of commanding visage and stood up, “If you know something, tell me right now!”

“I don’t wanna say it anymore,” Frisk shuddered, shrinking in on herself. Both monsters turned to look at her. Overwhelmed, she shot to her feet and bolted out of the living room without eye-contact, wholly expecting to be stopped in some way, but no irate shout or plethora of magic followed her.

Taking large strides towards the kitchen, she sank to the floor and began to weep again at the sound of arguing coming from the end of the hall.

“You will tell me what is going on right this instant!”

“Did you not hear me? Time is of the essence, allow me to pass and I shall tell you.”

“No, you tell me right now!”

“I implore you to refrain from this absurdly foolish behaviour.”

“This is _my_ house!”

“Considering how many times you have called me here I am surprised you have not asked for rent.”

“What's wrong with you, you stupid man! Just tell me!”

“Let me through.”

“She’s my child! I will look after her however I see fit!”

“Is that so? It seems there is room for improvement.”

 **“ _SHUT UP!”_** Frisk roared down the hall, still on the floor whilst tears spilled from her eyes, the bitter argument falling silent.

She sobbed, running her palms over her face and rocking on the cold floor. This was soon accompanied by two pairs of footsteps tapping against the wooden panels of the ground, growing closer with each second that she remained on the floor, vulnerable.

Two big fluffy feet padded into view, the creature kneeling down to meet her eye. For a while, there was only a blissful, needed silence, a blessing against all the noise that had been bestowed upon her ears during the past few hours of her life.

Sooner or later though, the silence was finally broken.

“Frisk, please tell me what’s going on,” Toriel’s eyes drilled into her with concerned sympathy, a lone finger drawing the hair out of her damp eyes, “I understand you may think I will overreact, but something is very clearly wrong, and I wish to know what it is.”

“It’s not that I think you’ll overreact…” she sniffed, wiping her eyes, “I just don’t like what will come after it…”

She smiled warmly, “And what do you think will happen?”

Frisk paused, shifting her gaze towards Gaster mutely standing behind her. A heavy brow furrowed in understanding.

“I had considered bringing her back with me, but I know you would be adverse to the idea.”

Up went her brow. Clearly now she had some idea of the severity of the situation.

“Alright. And what exactly would cause such a notion?”

Clenching her fists, Frisk bit her lip at the thought of telling her mother what she had just tried to do. Evidently, though, Gaster had enough of beating around the bush.

“I found the child attempting to climb out their bedroom window. And, before you accuse me of jumping to conclusions, I did use a sizable quantity of magic to keep her afloat before bringing her back in.”

Toriel gaped, her hands withdrew from Frisk’s own, choked with shock, “Oh, my!” she huffed, gazing at her with uncomfortable pity, “How did I not notice this sooner? Oh, my child, this is my fault! I have a responsibility—” she paused when Frisk sighed, taken to inspecting her fingernails.

Exhaling a long breath, Toriel shook her head and grounded herself. “Alright. I see now… I apologise for that.”

“It’s understandable. This is a disturbing revelation for you.”

Toriel anchored her attention to her claws, staring at them as if they had somehow done her wrong. “You can take her to her lab if you want. From experience I know you only want to help. But, Gaster,” Frisk’s eyes widened as Toriel locked eyes with the scientist, a scowl forming on the protective mother’s face, “You must never lock me out again. I must be able to visit whenever I require. Is that understood?”

An eyebrow cocked upwards. “Of course,” there was scarce hesitation, visibly surprised with the offer himself.

“On a positive note, it seems at least the implant is working. There was no ill effect when you became… upset, right?”

Gaster nodded slowly, as if having just determined this himself.

“I must ask, however,” Toriel began to embrace Frisk softly, wrapping her arms tightly around the child as she squealed, “Why did you do it, child? Why do you want her in your lab? Is this not a place of stress?”

Frisk nodded agreeably, trying to convey meaning behind it – she did _not_ want to go to the lab!

Gaster seemed to be searching within himself for the answer _at all,_ apparently unsure why he wanted her there in the first place. “I want to be able to help, if I can,” he began, craning his head to the side, “I will find a solution for this.”

Frisk pursed her lips, her voice small as she finally decided to speak, “Umm… what if I just go to a monster hospital? I…” she frowned, interlocking her fingers together, “Maybe they will think of something. People go there about magic all the time right? Maybe they can fix me?”

Something in Gaster’s eyes flared, a spark of rage hidden within a vacant expression. Frisk winced.

“They are not well versed with humans, much less human magic. You’re the first they would deal with in a very long time.”

Toriel shrugged, “But so are you. You would be running on guesswork too, would you not?”

Gaster fixed the mother an irritated glare with his slits for eyes, something very clearly had boiled over inside him. “I have substantially more knowledge on human souls than they do. All the research performed with the child’s current ailment is with me.”

“Then give them your research? It may help if they had multiple people on the project rather than one?”

Frisk nodded, “Yep! Maybe it’ll go faster if there’s loads of them!”

Irately, Gaster’s hard gaze blazed with wrath between Toriel and Frisk, before wordlessly making large strides towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” she hollered after him, to no avail. She pouted, furrowing her brows as the door slammed shut. “Did I say something wrong?”

_I thought we were doing well…_

Her mother’s mouth curved into a slight smile, offering Frisk a reassuring rub on the shoulder. “No, dear. Not at all.”

“Then why is he angry with me?”

Toriel’s eyes flickered with wistful grief as she heaved a long sigh. “My child, if Sans or Papyrus became ill, do you think he would take them to a monster hospital?”

Frisk pondered on this for a moment, but the answer was very clear. “Nah, he’d probably not trust them and take care of them on his own,” she smiled at the thought.

“Yes…exactly,” Toriel met her eye, “Do you understand what I am getting at?”

…What has that got to do with anything? “…No?”

The queen chewed on her bottom lip before posing a response. “Frisk, you have been on the surface with us for a couple of years now, and it has been almost a whole year with this magic problem of yours. And the entire time, Dr Gaster has been the one looking after you.”

“Exactly!” she cried, hurling her hands up in the air, “I don’t want him to keep having to do it! He has other things to do!” Somehow, she would get over the fear she had of doctors and would find someone else to deal with her—she was doing him a favour!

“No, dear, you’re not understanding,” Toriel laughed, “You have been under his care for so long that he is beginning to see you as one of his own, if not already.”

“… Oh.”

“Yes,” she smiled kindly, “And he would never take his kids to a hospital, he wants to help them himself. So when you said you wanted to go…”

“Oh, uh…” Frisk frowned, but nodded in understanding, “I see now…”

Her mother hummed, offering her a supportive hug.

“But you’re my mom,” she snuggled her head within Toriel’s close embrace, “You’re always gonna be my mom. That’s confusing.”

“Yes, I will, I always will be. But as much as he hates to admit it, he cares about you very much, just like he cares for his sons.”

“Okay…” That made slightly more sense. Come to think of it, that made _a lot_ more sense; he treats her with the same patience he gives to his sons, a vast difference to his bitter attitude towards every other creature in existence.

“Keep in mind that he is not exactly an authoritive guardian figure in the way that I am, he knows he has no control over what you do and I’m quite sure that frustrates him too. But ultimately, what you want to do is up to you, my dear.”

Frisk nodded, now sure in herself that she was not going to go away anymore if it rewarded her friend with the complete opposite of her intentions.

“I guess I should tell him I change my mind or something…”

Toriel gave her a half-smile, “Yes, that sounds wonderful. He is no doubt sulking who-knows-where again!”

With that decision in mind, Frisk retrieved the phone from her pocket and scrolled down her list of many contacts. Thankfully, his name was under W, right at the very bottom, so it wouldn’t be hard to find.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out there's a magic pill. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry :(  
> Please be aware of the trigger warning referencing suicide again.

_**TW again:** Another dark chapter referencing suicide attempts._

* * *

_"I guess I should tell him I change my mind or something…”_

_Toriel gave Frisk a half-smile, “Yes, that sounds wonderful. He is no doubt sulking who-knows-where again!”_

_With that decision in mind, Frisk retrieved the phone from her pocket and scrolled down her list of many contacts. Thankfully, his name was under W, right at the very bottom, so it wouldn’t be hard to find._

**....**

**....**

_Everyone knows._

_It’s gonna spread around and everyone is gonna know…_

The same way she had tried so many times before, Frisk squeezed her eyes shut and thought long and hard about the phrase _reset._

_Reset._

_When I open my eyes…_

_Reset._

_Please just let everything be gone…_

_RESET!_

_Please…_

_Just let me reset…_

But just like all those other times, nothing happened. 

Growling, she slammed her fists to her knees in anger, releasing an agonized shriek as she huddled herself in dismay.

_I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this…_

“Frisk?” her bedroom door creaked open, the footsteps of her worried mother creeping towards her, “Are you doing it again?”

Unmoving, Frisk snivelled and stifled a shuddering gasp, knowing her current state would speak louder than any word could.

“Oh dear…” her mother crouched beside her, sparing no time wrapping her arms around the distraught child. “I’m so sorry, my child. It will be alright…” her embrace was warm, but her words felt empty.

_It won’t be alright._

“Won’t you come and have dinner with me? Perhaps a little food will help you feel better…”

Frisk stared petulantly at her knees, the embrace keeping her tightly squished against her mother. “Not hungry,” she mumbled, twisting her sleeping tingly foot. She heard the creature softly sigh.

If she was so exhausted then maybe she should leave. “It’s been three days since you last ate. You’re falling back into old habits.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, dear,” Toriel gently rubbed the back of Frisk’s head comfortingly, “Now that you have magic you must fuel it—you need to eat.”

Frisk scoffed, almost inaudibly, being careful not to scorn the caring creature. “I don’t wanna fuel it. I don’t want it at all. I wish I could make it leave, but I can’t, can I?”

Once again Toriel huffed a reluctant sigh, wanting so desperately to help but helpless as to knowing how. All she knew was that the child currently having a breakdown in front of her needed to _eat._ “I know, but you won’t last much longer if…” she paused, regretting those words the second they left her mouth.

Still hidden under Toriel’s embrace, Frisk smirked at the unfortunate turn of phrase.

Dismissing her fluff-up, she continued, “Listen, I’ve made you your favourite pie, it’s exactly the same as the one you had when we first met. You loved it!” she smiled fondly, “Won’t you try it again?”

It pained Frisk to upset her kindly mother, but she had to refuse. “Sorry… I’m just not hungry right now. Maybe tomorrow?” she thought of an excellent compromise to stop the worrying, “Maybe put it in the fridge and I’ll have it tomorrow?”

The mother seemed to perk up at that, attaining new hope that the child would actually eat something after all.

“Alright then, I will do that,” she released her tight hold on Frisk and met her eye, “You don’t have to sulk in your room all day. Why don’t you come downstairs and watch something with me? Perhaps I can read you something?”

Shrugging, Frisk averted her gaze to the floor, not particularly fond of the idea but was tired of letting her mother down. “Kay…”

**....**

**....**

**_Day 4._ **

No food... No water.

But this was good. Without sustenance, there was no fuel. And with no fuel, there was no magic. Maybe if she starved herself so much, the magic would go away.

At least, that was what she hoped. She was no scientist, she was a kid.

“What about my pie?” her mother had said. But she seemed so disappointed, so let down that Frisk wasn't going to eat it that in the end she agreed.

And by agreed, that was take it up into her room and discreetly throw it in the bin.

“Did you enjoy it?” Toriel had asked, tucking the child up in bed.

“Mmm… very yummy, just like the first time,” Frisk smiled sweetly, snuggling up under the covers.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Toriel hummed to herself, before giving her child a kiss on the forehead, “Goodnight, sweetheart. Remember that I love you very much.”

**_Day 5._ **

_How long can I keep this up?_

_My head hurts so much._

_**Day 6.** Or was it **Day 7?**_

She didn't want to get out of bed.

But it was time for school.

Although, it was still rather dark, so perhaps winter was coming early.

Frisk crept downstairs, swinging her backpack on and heading towards the door, not caring for breakfast considering she’d never even eat it anyway.

Another door closed with a _clunk_ before she could reach the one in front of her.

“Frisk? Where are you going?” her mother had called, rubbing her tired eyes.

“To school,” she muttered simply, throwing a weakened hand on the doorknob and struggling to twist it open. Unfortunately, she lacked the energy.

“Frisk, love, it’s three o'clock in the morning.” Worry etched her mother’s voice, rapidly approaching footsteps drawing nearer, “Please come here and sit down with me.”

Frisk glanced upwards, noting Toriel gesturing towards the couch. Shrugging, and loving the idea of sleep, she sat down whilst her mother retrieved her phone. Leaning over to rest her weary head on Toriel's lap, she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of a phone ringing as it waited for an answer.

The ringing stopped. “Hello, it’s me again. I apologise for calling so late, but Frisk just attempted to leave the house for school. Yes... yes she’s safe right now, but I'm just a little bit worried. Okay... alright...” her chest vibrated as she spoke, the notion quite soothing to Frisk's confused mind; it was grounding in a way. “No... no seizures that I'm aware of…” Toriel motioned her head towards Frisk, as if looking for reassurance. Frisk shook her head and smiled. Relief struck the mother’s features before confirming her belief over the phone.

“Yes, she had something to eat earlier, I watched her take a slice of my pie after… a great deal of coercion.”

_Yes… I ate that pie… I totally ate the entire thing…_

She voiced as much. “I ate the whole pie,” she slurred through half-closed eyes, “Ate the whole pie n’ very yummy…”

Toriel glanced down at her worriedly, her gaze averting when an inaudible reply came from the phone.

Frisk smiled and snuggled into her mother’s embrace, cosying up against her warm fluffy dressing gown.

“No, she didn’t eat the whole pie, only a very small slice as far as I’m aware,” Frisk felt a distracted hand graze her back, drawing circles into her shoulder blade.

She watched Toriel nodding absentmindedly, Frisk blinking sluggishly as she gradually felt more and more sleepy. In fact, she was beginning to drift off when suddenly a thought occurred to her.

_School… gotta go to school…_

Frisk hauled herself upright, feeling her mother’s beady gaze on her as she walked back over to the door and ready to embrace the cold winter’s darkness. Just like a mother chasing after a toddler, Toriel suddenly jumped after her.

“No! No, Frisk, dear, come back here, please,” her forearm was pulled backwards, but she had other commitments.

“School,” she murmured through hardly-moving lips, “Gotta go school…”

“There’s no school today, alright? No school, you have to stay here,” Toriel urged, pulling her backwards with force now, “Come and sit down with me, alright?”

Frisk allowed herself to be towed back to the couch, flopping onto the seat and curling up in a ball as her mother picked up the phone again. “I… I really think something is wrong, this hasn’t happened before.”

“I wanna go to schoooool!” she moaned, frustratedly kicking a leg, “Time to go to school…” she repeated for the nth time, uncurling herself and sitting up again.

Toriel firmly set the phone aside, taking a hold of the child’s shoulders and forcibly turning her to face her. “Listen to me, child, there is no school, alright?”

“No school…?”

“No school. You must stay here, on the couch with me, do you understand?”

“Mmm…”

Wanting more than a simple sound as response, Toriel urged her again, “ _Do you understand?”_

“Yes,” Frisk mutely replied, she formed her lips into a pout, “But school,” and stood up again.

“No… no,” Toriel sighed, wrapping a strong arm around the child’s stomach and holding her back, “Please stop moving. Do I as I say, alright? Stay here.”

Frisk shook her head and tried to pull away, noticing a flash of blue out the corner of her eye. She blinked and froze instinctively, but stared longingly at the door. “I wanna go to school…”

A stronger, firmer hand suddenly secured itself to her shoulder and sent her hurtling backwards, flopping onto the couch so hard the wooden base rocked on impact.

Her eyes glazed over, bewildered at the sudden movement.

“Oh, hello. You didn’t need to come, I had it under control.”

“Yes, it definitely sounded like it.” her view of the door was obscured by a black blob wandering into her vision, kneeling to her level and staring her in the eye.

She blinked, unsure of what to do or how to feel. What she _did_ know was that she had a very strong urge to leave the house.

The man before her didn’t seem to be very interested in talking to her, or making contact at all; he just seemed to be very rudely staring intently at her eye as if it had turned an odd shade of red or something. Plus, there was a weird burn mark running up his hand.

“It’s alright, I will just send her back to bed, I’m sorry for calling you,” she heard Toriel apologise, which went ignored by the man.

He grabbed her chin, “Her pupils are pinpoint, how long has she been like this?”

“Erm… a couple of days? I don’t know, I assumed it was normal because of what we talked about…”

The man actually met her gaze now. “When was the last time you ate?”

Frisk pursed her lips into a straight line, refusing to answer that question as he would just see right through her and upset her mom.

“What about fluids?”

“I make her breakfast every morning before I go to work, she’s fine. You’re overreacting again, Gaster.”

Gaster swung her an icy glare, “Then answer me this, when was the last time you _watched_ her eat something?”

Toriel lifted a finger, about to come out with some assertive response probably about how mother’s see all, but paused. Her expression faltered, worry lacing her eyes. “Oh…”

“I ate the whole pie!” Frisk grinned as though she were participating in a dream, “Big pie… ate it all…” she frowned, “School…”

“I am presuming you haven’t even had the pastry anywhere near your mouth,” he shot Toriel another glare, “Do you understand what you’ve done?”

She heard her mom gasp in offence, “Me? This isn’t my fault! I didn’t know! I gave her food and water every single day, I always made sure, how was I to know she didn’t actually eat it?”

“Was her delirium not a concern for you?”

“I thought it was normal! She’s recovering!”

“ _This is **not normal!”**_

Frisk’s eyes grew wide at the man shouting at her mom, promptly deciding she needed to get out. “I’m gonna... gonna go to school,” she murmured, hauling herself upright again. Through the shouts of disapproval, she managed three steps before jelly-like legs suddenly crumpled, collapsing backwards and, luckily, caught under the man’s arms before she could hit something.

She blinked sluggishly, all energy leaving her system, “M’not gonna… not gonna go to school… no more…”

“Alright,” Gaster exhaled, “Easy, _easy_ ,” she felt her body gently lay back on the carpet, the soft rug tickling her skin. Once she was safely on the floor, the man started up his tirade again. “Essentially you are telling me she has gone an entire week without any nourishment whatsoever.”

Toriel’s voice crumpled, “I had no idea! I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing!”

Gaster sighed, but promptly went rummaging through his coat pocket. “Do you have any of that… pie left?”

She nodded, “Yes, should I get some?”

“A small piece, yes,”

“I get more pie?” Frisk grinned, slowly trying to sit up before being thumped back down again.

Gaster kept a hand over her sternum, “This time you will eat it.”

“I get more pie!” she glanced over to Toriel, watching her searching through the fridge for the aforementioned pie. Strangely enough, half a plate surfaced from the fridge—she was sure that she had eaten all of it already!

“Here we are,” she trotted back over, kneeling to her side and taking the smallest slice from the plate, “Eat up, dear.”

Frisk accepted the slice eagerly, sniffed the delicious dessert and ate as if she hadn’t eaten for… well… a week.

“Oh, my,” Toriel chortled with a wide smile, “You _were_ hungry!”

She finished the foodstuffs off with ease, missing the frown sent her way by the elder skeleton.

“Hungry a little bit,” she muffled, licking her lips. After she finished off the _entirety_ off the pie, Toriel hummed to herself, then glanced over to Gaster. They exchanged looks, a conversation happening in silence before someone finally spoke.

Toriel took a breath. “We’ve been thinking… and I am not quite sure how to say this nicely… but are you a hundred percent sure that you want your magic gone?”

_Huh. I forgot about that…_

“…Yeah,” she blinked, perplexed, “Really much.”

“Well…” Toriel seemed burdened by something, “We… or, well, _he,”_ she glanced over to the scientist in question, “thinks there’s a way to erm… what was it you said?”

“Suppression. Your magic may be able to be suppressed to a point where it is unusable,”

Frisk’s eyes widened. That explained the burn mark. Stupid experiments. But also cool experiments!

“ _But,”_ he emphasized, “You still need to sustain it. If you do not eat, you will still get sick, as your body cannot convert its resources to magic,” he spoke slowly, knowing of course he was speaking to a child that didn’t know any better, “Plus, I have to make these medications myself, which is why I wanted to make sure you will actually take care of yourself before I give it to you. We had hoped you would adapt to the idea of having magic but… your actions prove to me otherwise.”

“But…” she blinked, touching the back of her head, “What about the implant?”

Gaster hummed in thought, “That, I suppose, is _also_ a suppressor, but only in the way to stop your magic from getting out of control,” he fished into his pockets for a handful of yellow pills, “These go a step further and stop your magic from working entirely. But it is still there, and still needs to be fed.”

She nodded blankly, reaching a hand out to take the supplements.

Gaster retracted his hand. “Not yet.”

“Whhyy?” she moaned, glancing over to Toriel for backup. She only shrugged sheepishly.

“I’m leaving them in your mother’s hands,” he poured the contents of his hands into Toriel’s, along with another small pot full of them. “This should keep you going for about a month.”

So… “I… I’m actually going to not have magic anymore?”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, “I would say give it several weeks to feel the effects. You will still have magic in your system, you just won’t be able to use it. The minimum amount of live from.”

She nodded thoughtfully. It was something, at least.

**....**

**....**

“Frisk?”

“ _Oh!”_ she jumped, spinning around at the sudden voice, “Mama! Sorry, you scared me,” she giggled.

Toriel smiled warmly, “I am sorry, my child. I just wanted to let you know dinner is ready. We will have it together, alright?”

She nodded, “Okay!” it was getting a lot easier to eat since taking the medicine. Even if it was a placebo… who knows, but it didn’t matter. Her magic was finally going away and that’s what she wanted all this time.

Kicking her feet as she entered the kitchen, Frisk gawked at the sight of the grand meal before her.

“Turkey?” she gasped. Mom had never made this before! “But you’ve never eaten it!”

Putting away the last of the dishes, Toriel chuckled, “I thought it would be special. I’ll make you whatever you like.”

Turning scarlet, Frisk giggled, “Thank you… you didn’t have to though, I know you don’t really like this kind of stuff.”

_You like snails, not turkey._

Mother and daughter sitting down at the table together, Toriel handed her a plate. “I have been meaning to tell you, there is a royal banquet happening tomorrow and I said… _reluctantly…_ we’d be there.”

Frisk snorted, “A _royal banquet?_ Since when was that a thing?” _Probably since word spread that I wasn’t eating…_

“Well, Asgore… _ahem,”_ Toriel rolled her eyes, “ _the King,_ decided we’re going to start having festivals attended by both humans and monsters to boost morale and get us to interact with both races. Personally, I think that he is just trying to win me over.” She stuck her nose in the air, then did the same for the turkey with a fork.

“Sure, ma,” she chuckled with a hidden smile.

“How is the new medicine going, anyway? I hope you are feeling better?”

“Yeah!” Frisk smiled with her eyes and mouth, elated over the fact her magic would be almost gone soon, “When it all goes away everything will be back to normal!”

Toriel offered her a tight smile, assertively sticking the fork into the turkey again, “Yes. I hope so.”

Now all she had to do was wait for the disgusting feeling of magic to go away completely.

**....**

**....**

It didn’t go away.

That night, Frisk smacked her forehead into her double pillows and growled with frustration—why wasn’t the medicine working? Why wasn’t it working _fast enough?_

Sure, it had been… two days, but that was enough, right? She’d taken the medicine _twice_ now and whilst it was getting harder to summon the magic, she could still feel it inside her, like an alienated worm wriggling around where it didn’t belong. In her chest. In her _soul_.

Maybe she was a special case and two wasn’t enough. It was a brand-new type of medicine so maybe they got the dose wrong? Curious, and bridled with new hope, Frisk shakily grabbed the stash of pills, minutes away from another breakdown she could feel coming.

Maybe if she took more, it would work faster… maybe they knew this, and gave it to her slowly just in case she changed her mind. Gaster _did_ say after all that he wanted to make sure she was sure about this! Well… he _actually_ said he wanted to make sure she’d _take care of herself,_ but same thing.

Pouring a handful into her palm, she inspected the cluster of pills closely. She _definitely_ didn’t want magic anymore – more than anything in the world she wanted the magic gone, and _fast._ So…

She grasped the box full of the medicine in her other hand, craning her head at it in wonder. It wouldn’t really matter how much she took, right? After all, they probably didn’t even assign the correct dosage; she was human after all!

**....**

**....**

Music blasted from the cathedral-like castle, completely refurbished and decorated for the new surface build, enriched by the cosy sound of crackling fire situated in a faux fireplace.

“I thank you all for coming today,” Asgore proclaimed, beaming around the room to each of his disciples, “I know you have things to do, but I feel this was important.” He was at the head of the extended bustling table, which of course meant Toriel was at the absolute opposite end of the table.

“My hope is that this annual meetup will bring us closer together, so that we may live as a united one, instead of divided across the kingdom.”

Toriel was frowning across the other side, clearly internally monologuing about what she _wished_ she could say, but couldn’t, lest being thrown out of the castle… or indeed the kingdom.

Amongst the energetic table, Frisk furtively had one hand grasped to her stomach, not liking the idea of eating anything that was on lain out of front of her. For once, it wasn’t out of self-hate.

_My stomach hurts…_

As to not raise suspicion, and knowing a certain three people would be watching her closely, Frisk willed herself to dig a fork into some mashed potato, served up in little balls specifically for her.

Yet, her stomach churned.

Peering over her brows, she checked the room for the vigilant monsters in question—they seemed to be distracted with their own conversation right now.

_I’ll hold off eating for as long as I can._

_Maybe I can hide in the bathroom to throw it all up again after I’m done. Then I can eat as much as I want._

“hey,” she heard Sans chortle from beside her, “you gonna eat that? or you gonna spin it around in circles all evening like a plate of spaghetti?”

Frisk shifted her gaze back to her plate. She had been twirling her fork around the potatoes for so long that they were no longer in the form all balls, but were now, well… mashed.

“Yeah, is yummy,” she grinned, forcing herself to stick a fork in her mouth along with the mouthful of potato, “What ‘bout you?”

Sans shrugged dismissively, “not really that hungry. only here to be polite honestly.”

Frisk’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Yeah, me too. Not hungry either.”

“i can tell, heheh,” he nodded towards her hand that was still suspiciously on her stomach.

_Damn, forgot I was doing that…_

“you feelin’ bad?”

The hand on her stomach reluctantly released, arms swinging by her sides again. “Mmm…” she hummed hesitantly; but it was Sans, he didn’t care about anything. “Tummy hurts a bit. I’ll have the dessert,” she admitted with a guilty smile.

Sans’ eyes relaxed at her honesty, “i think pap is helping with the dessert, pretty sure there’s some jelly or something too. you can have that?”

She nodded, “Yeah, that sounds yummy. I like jelly,” she briefly shut her eyes, the belly ache temporarily overcome with burning, before it went away again. Frisk relaxed, and opened her eyes. Sans was watching her now. _Damn it._

“you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes!” she whispered, unwillingly plopping another bite of potato in her mouth, “Can we just spend today _not_ being worried?”

Sans frowned, but nodded wearily “sure. sorry.”

Frisk offered a weak smile, turning her attention back to her burning stomach again. It was becoming more frequent as time went on. With secrecy, she clenched her fist into her stomach and exhaled softly until it disappeared again.

“i mean, i _would_ spend today not being worried if you didn’t look like that,” he gestured towards her, and again Frisk released her stomach with a sigh.

“Maybe I was dumb for taking the medicine yesterday… my tummy doesn’t like it,” she murmured, hanging her head to stare at the shadow on her knees. There was a long silent pause between that and the next utterance from the young skeleton.

“...how many did you take?”

“Erm…” Frisk paused, shrinking under his hard stare, knowing she was about to unleash a bombshell.

“…All of them?” she grinned sheepishly.

Sans hissed, “you did _what?”_ he was trying and failing to keep his voice down from eavesdroppers.

“I’m sorry! I thought if I took more it’d work faster!”

Sans scowled, “and didn’t you think we’d get suspicious when a month’s supply of pills vanished within a day?”

… _Oh._

Her face flushed red, “…No?”

“damn it, kid,” Sans growled, but managed to level his voice, “you’re telling me you’ve taken… sixty pills? really? and you thought that would be a good idea, huh?”

Frisk bit her lip, deftly glancing above her brow for curious onlookers, but luckily there wasn’t any; surprisingly, not even Gaster, who seemed far too distracted talking with Asgore for once.

“wait, hold on, you didn’t…” he frowned, retracting his hand, “…like, do it, because…”

“No!” Frisk shook her head with a hiss, “No, not like that. I just wanted it gone as soon as possible.”

“ok…”

The skeleton sighed, squaring his shoulders as he pitched his gaze around the room as to double check for onlookers, before turning back to Frisk, “we need to get out of here without my old man seeing. any ideas?”

Frisk scratched her arm, shrugging, “I dunno… why do we have to leave?”

Sans narrowed his eyes, fiddling with the laces on his hoodie, “why do you think? you’ve taken a huge overdose you stupid…” he sighed, taking a breath and shaking his head, “sorry. right, ok. if we can get in the garden or something, i could teleport.”

If only there was an acceptable excuse for the both of them to suddenly want to meet outside without causing alarm…

…such as the ‘talk’ that Gaster recommended her to have with Sans. She grinned.

“Actually… y’know, your dad said I should talk with you about… you know… _what I did_. Maybe if I can insinuate that, then…”

_I’d have to do it so that only he understands… I don’t want everyone to think I’m… doing… something…_

“huh. would you look at that, he actually cares,” Sans snorted, “all the more reason to get you out of here before he notices. you got an excuse ready?”

Frisk paused, internally reciting for what will be her excellently verbalised excuse. _Hi, yes, we’re going outside to have a talk about something important, we’ll be right back._

Perfect.

She nodded with confidence, gesturing for him to stand. With a convinced nod in return, both Sans and Frisk rose from the long dining table at the same time. Sans jerked his head towards Gaster as he walked, to which Frisk took that as a signal; the observant scientist was already staring at them both quizzically as they moved.

“Me and Sans are gonna go outside to have…a… talk…” _damn it._

His eyes ignited with trepidation, “Anything I can help with?”

“Nope!” she forced a smile, then whispered for good measure, “It’s a _talk_ , just like you said.”

_Yes! That sounded perfect!_

One of Gaster’s eyes squinted in suspicion, before nodding slowly, not granting her a response. With that over with, Frisk timidly powerwalked out the dining room and into the back garden.

As soon as the door fluttered shut, she breathed a sigh of relief.

_Thank the stars that’s over with._

It was very dark and cold outside, her breathing appearing as a mystified fog, snowflakes landing on her boiling skin.

Frisk bounced on her toes, then stopped as the movement jostled her stomach. “You know, I feel fine, maybe we don’t have to go after all…” there was no point causing such a big fuss if nothing bad was happening to her, right? This was only a dumb tummy ache. Maybe Sans had just inherited the _overreacting_ trait from his dad, and everything was actually okay!

Sans on the other hand pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled steadily. “kid, let me spell it out for ya. you were supposed to take two. a day. they supress magic, yeah?” he waited for her to nod. “enough so you don’t notice it, but enough to keep you alive. and how many do you take? **_sixty._** ”

The colour drained from Frisk’s face. “Okay! Okay, I get it now. Fine…” she threw her hands in the air, “Let’s just go and come back really fast...”

“Is everything alright out here?” a timid silhouette appeared by the yellow glow of the door.

_Toriel._

_Damn it..._

“yeah, me and the kid just having a talk, aren’t we?”

Frisk nodded, running a hand over her stomach. At least no-one would be able to see it.

_Placebo, just a placebo._

“Are you sure? You two left rather quickly...”

Speaking of _rather quickly_ , she had gone from feeling elated to stomach aches and dizziness within minutes.

_Stop thinking about it and the placebo effect will go away._

Once Toriel left, Frisk immediately let her guard down and crumpled. Wrapping her arms around her throbbing stomach, she wheezed, suddenly feeling very hot despite the snow.

Sans was already by her side, “you ok? you look shit.”

“Sans,” Frisk whispered, face contorted with pain, “I'm sorry... I’m so...” She wheezed, “sorry...”

She was promptly led over to a plastic chair lightly dusted in white, “ok, sit down, c'mon,”

Agony ripped through her lungs; she let out a cry of pain and began to tremble, small bony fingers traversing her arm for a pulse, “I’m... faint... I’m...” She was breathless, “Faint...I...”

“i know, it’s ok bud. breathe with me, ok?” his cold breaths were visible in front of her, blending in with her own shallow puffs of breath.

“Not ... pan.... pan.... king...”

“im gonna take us back to the lab.”

“Not… not… yet…”

“kid, if tori came out here then it’s only a matter of time before my pops catches on and comes out too. _then_ we’re in trouble. we have to go now.”

Her shimmering eyes widened with panic, shaking her head as the cold wind howled in her ears, “I can’t… can’t go back there…” she muttered breathlessly, “…please…”

Sans’ glowing pale eyes bore into her, flitting through multiple possible solutions but coming up empty. This wasn’t a time to be messing around and trying to suit someone’s emotional needs.

“we’ll go straight there and come straight back, ok?” he lied, aware she was going to possibly be there for hours. There was no quick fix for an overdose, not even with their modern monster standards.

“Just…” she breathed, muscles going slack, “Jus’…” she pitched forward, caught easily by Sans, who pushed her back into the chair. Her eyes were closed, but she still trembled as if left in the cold overnight.

He hoped it was _because_ of the cold and not something else. “kid. kid? hey, frisk,” he shook her gently, “talk to me bud, wake up,” Then, she started to shake.

“tori,” Sans rasped, breath caught in his throat with panic, “ _TORI!”_ he screamed, at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t teleport her like this.

The creature’s shadow immediately appeared, obviously having been trying to eavesdrop behind the door.

“Oh my!” she gasped, tottering over, “Oh! Oh… what’s happening? What’s happened?”

“get gaster,” his voice quivered, turning the child onto her side. “get-get gaster, now,” he breathed, “ _now!”_

Jolted out of her daze, Toriel ran back into the castle hall. It was too dark to see much, but he didn’t need to be able to see to know that the kid was having another one of those seizures, likely from the overdose.

 _sixty pills, fuck,_ he swore to himself. _sixty._

“ ** _dad!”_** he bellowed into the air, doing a very bad job at keeping himself together. He was never very good at this.

It felt like forever when the distant door rapidly creaked open, footsteps trudging through the snow to reach them. For the first time in a very long time, Sans felt immense relief when the silhouette of his father appeared next to him.

“she overdosed on your meds,” Sans whispered before the man could get a word in, the child being hauled off of the casual deckchair and placed on her side on the snowy grass. “all of them. she fucking took all of them.” He heard the telling sound of a briefcase metal pinging open, hands rummaging through the box as if he had somehow memorised the contents of it.

“All of them in one go?” he asked, a small orange light suddenly appearing above Frisk’s eyes—his mind managed to piece together the fact it was a penlight. “Pupils are dilated…”

“yeah, she said so. i don’t know when.” Sans tried not to whimper when his father released a foreign sound that could be translated into a string of profanity. It was surprising she had managed to last through the majority of the day undetected up until now.

“That’s six thousand milligrams of dexlancadren,” he murmured, “Did you check for a pulse?”

“yeah, i’ve got it now,” he whispered, somewhat wondering if the rapid irregular thumping in his fingers were his own pulse or Frisk’s. “she said her stomach hurt…”

“Was this attempted suicide?”

Sans swallowed at the abrasive question. “no, don’t think so. said she wanted the magic g-gone faster.”

“Why on earth were all those pills readily available for a child to seek out and take,” Gaster muttered, a long and thin silhouette retracted from her hip bone, “As soon as this seizure stops we’re going back to the lab.”

“that’s-that’s what i wanted to do first—that’s why we left to go outside ‘ca-cause I was gonna teleport her to the lab but then sh-she started shaking real bad and sh-she suddenly co-collapsed and—”

“Calm down, you’re no use to either of us like this.”

“sorry.” his father could be really awful sometimes.

“Pulse?”

“s-still, yeah, still… fast…”

“Alright, seizing has stopped.” The room flashed blue before Sans could even process the sentence.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel faces the consequences. Gaster tries mixing being a dad with a scientist, and Frisk... is being Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think the suicide things are mostly gone now, but there are a lot of anxiety/panic references if that's a TW?

_“that’s-that’s what i wanted to do first—that’s why we left to go outside ‘ca-cause I was gonna teleport her to the lab but then sh-she started shaking real bad and sh-she suddenly co-collapsed and—”  
“Calm down, you’re no use to either of us like this.”  
“sorry.” his father could be really awful sometimes.   
“Pulse?”  
“s-still, yeah, still… fast…”  
“Alright, seizing has stopped.” The room flashed blue before Sans could even process the sentence._

**........**

**........**

_“I’m sorry! I didn’t think and I didn’t know this would happen and I didn’t mean to!”_ Frisk wept upon regaining consciousness in the lab.

Sans tried to distract her while Gaster worked out a plan to put her back to sleep again. “i know bud, it’s not your fault, it’s okay—”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“it’s ok—”

She flailed, her voice practically a screech, “ _I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry! I’m—”_

“it’s not your fault, it’s ok,” Sans repeated, gently pressing her down on the godforsaken table she fought so hard to avoid, “you’ll be fine, promise.”

“I don’t wanna be in here!”

“i know, i know…” he gave a pleading glance towards his father.

“Roll up her sleeve.”

She sat up, “Can we go?”

“not just yet, kiddo,” he pulled up her sleeve; Gaster shoved her back down so hard she winced. “just gotta fix you up first.”

“Can we do that later?”

“nope, we need to do it right now. you did a dumb thing.”

Frisk’s expression morphed into utter dread, “I said I was sorry this is my fault I shouldn’t have done it I’m so sorry I’m so bad I need to go I need to go I need to go I need to go—”

“hey, hey hey—”

“I sorry I gonna go gonna go gonna—”

“frisk—”

“I need to—gonna gonna go—gonna—have to—need to—”

“it’s ok, frisk—”

“I’m so messed up, everything’s messed up!”

“frisk,” Sans grabbed her hand, “you need to calm down, ok?”

“I’m sorry!”

“it’s ok.” he observed his father deftly pulling the contents of a milky white vial into a syringe below the table and out of sight. His silence wasn’t doing much to help Frisk’s panic.

“I’m so messed up…” she ran a hand through sweaty matted hair and tried to sit up again, blocked by Sans this time.

“you’re not messed up. you do need to stop trying to _sit_ up, however.”

“I’m not, I need to, to get out—I’m sorry—” she threw her hands in the air, Sans grasping them immediately.

“kid, it’s ok. just relax.”

“I’m sorry!”

Gaster growled under his breath, “ _Sans.”_

“frisk, you need to stop moving. ok? just for a minute.”

She shook her head, coughing, “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad at me!”

“kid, we’re not—no-one’s mad at you. it’s ok.” Gaster seemed to be going through an internal moral dilemma before slamming the tool down in frustration.

Sans met his eye, “you’re gonna fix it.” It seemed he'd suddenly became everyone's personal shrink.

Frisk blinked. “What—”

“not your fault. ok?”

“But—”

“not. your. fault.” Sans gave her a reassuring rub on the shoulder.

Slowly and painfully, Frisk eventually began to calm down, the words _‘not your fault’_ becoming such a repeated mantra for Sans he might as well stick it on a vinyl and leave it running.

That was until the quietened breathing was soon accompanied by a sudden ringing alarm sounding from one of the monitors and shattered the brief serenity they had.

Sans glanced up to see what the fuss was—and did a double take.

_oh no._

He was beginning to get a sense of de ja vu, “ _gaster_!” he called out to his once more disappearing father, attempting and failing to shake Frisk into awareness again, “ _dad!”_

Gaster soon resurfaced, glancing between his son and the blaring monitor flashing multiple numbers in red. Frisk groaned on the third attempt of being shaken back to consciousness.

“Alright, we have waited too long,” he set off back to the table and grabbed the deftly discarded syringe, “I am assuming this will not be easy.”

Sans clenched his jaw and began to set up the breathing apparatus, connecting the tubing together and turning a tank dial up.

“might be better if i did the sedative, she trusts me.”

Gaster mutely nodded, handing over the syringe to his son and taking over control of the breathing equipment. Gently tipping the child's head up under the jaw, he pressed a mask to her face and silently hoped this wouldn't be too hard.

“Whasssaaaht?” Frisk slurred, eyes rolling around her head.

“it's ok, your body is having trouble coping with all the medicine you took, but we're gonna fix it.”

“Mmmm...” She probably didn’t understand a word of that.

Whilst her eyes were still closed, Sans inserted the needle into Frisk's wrist, a collection of glue-like substance pushed into a vein, causing a startled jolt at the action. She moaned into the mask and tried to struggle, Gaster firmly yet easily holding her down, one hand on her sternum while the other held up her chin.

“it's ok, almost done, ok?” he offered her a sincere grin, sliding out a piece from the tool and placing it aside, “there, see? all done."

Frisk nodded absentmindedly, weakly slapping a hand over the skeletal ones holding the mask in place.

“Sssssgoooooo!"

Gaster secured his other hand to support the one holding the mask, in case the child became distressed. “This has to stay on.”

She blinked sluggishly, slowly drawing in a breath and exhaling a breathy explosion of words, “Mmmmsrryy mmmmbaaad"

“I’m not angry with you.”

“Ssssssyooou aaarreee!”

“I’m not. But I have to start working now. Can you lie still?”

“Ssstttttilll?”

“Yes. Don’t move.”

“Kaaaaaaay...”

With Frisk remaining surprisingly still, Gaster nodded towards Sans his affirmative to start.

“Hold this,” he shifted his hold on the mask and Frisk's head to one hand, to which Sans took over from him.

“how'd you plan on doing this without freaking her out?”

His father held up an orange vial, “This should counter the effects of the drug. It needs to go straight into her abdomen though, so you understand why I resorted to sedation.”

“yeah, she hates it. actually I’m surprised she didn’t freak out more, it was mostly just panic thinking she did something wrong, heheh... _heeeh_ …”

“She could be getting used to it, which could be considered a positive or negative result depending on how you view the situation.”

One simple needle slide into the stomach and it was over. This entire thing could have been done in five minutes if Frisk didn’t feel the need to overreact every time she sets foot in the lab.

Actually, this entire thing wouldn’t have happened at all if it weren’t for…

With a frustrated grunt, Gaster set aside his tools and stalked off with haste to the back of the lab in search for the elevator.

“where you going?” Sans called after him, yet didn’t leave the child’s side, “what if she wakes up?”

Gaster pressed the button for the elevator, “Then give her another dose. I’ll be right back.”

Sans nodded mutely, watching his father step into the elevator and vanish behind closed doors.

**........**

**........**

“You can’t do this… you can’t do this! You have no right!”

“I have every right.”

Toriel practically grabbed him, mere inches away from vacant eye sockets, “You do _not!_ You cannot just take my child away from me because you feel like it!”

“I believe, and I think you know, that this is your fault for endangering the child _multiple_ times.”

“ _My_ fault!? This is _your_ fault for creating such hazardous substances in the first place!”

“I’m a scientist, it is my job,” he stated matter-of-factly, “And it is not _hazardous_ , not if they are taken cautiously. Any chemically altering drug is safe with moderation, but in Frisk’s case they had taken a significant overdose consequently from being within reach, in her bedroom,” he grit his teeth, “You gave a child with suicidal intent access to pills that could fatally injure her, and almost did. I cannot fathom what goes through your mind.”

The queen on the other hand wasn’t having any of it, raising her voice several more notches, “May I remind you I still rank higher than you; do not take that tone with me. Also, you should have warned me!”

Gaster sighed, “Was it necessary to give warning? It’s the same as taking over-counter medications for a headache. I told you before that my drug was a suppressant, it is common sense to know an overdose would be lethal. The child got lucky.”

Apparently running out of ideas, Toriel stuttered on her next words before giving up completely. “I am sorry. I will be more careful next time. Just please do not take my only living child away from me.”

“An hour ago, _living_ would have been a debatable phrase,” he sneered, taking a step back as to promptly leave the conversation, “This has happened one too many times. I am sorry that you do not agree with my decision.”

Toriel leapt after him, “Wait! Hold on, don’t…!” but the door slammed shut, abruptly cutting off any other excuse she had left to say, leaving the poor creature alone in her living room. She numbly stared at the door in paralysed shock, before collapsing onto her couch bawling, unwilling to process the heartbreak of yet another loss.

**........**

**........**

“And then sometimes when I went there he gave me two!”

“oh yeah?” Sans grinned playfully, “why don’t i get two?”

“Cos you’re not as cool as me!” Frisk giggled, “I’m so cool I get it for free!”

“wow, maybe i should take pap. bet he’ll get three.”

Awe transformed her face as an incredible plan formed, “So if all of us went we’d get six burgers!”

“yeah, and i bet i can eat ‘em all.”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement, “Maybe we can order as many as we possibly can and see how many we can eat in one go!”

“i’m a tough competition to beat, kid,” Sans winked, “i do like my burgs.”

“I know! But I’ll keep going until I win!”

“heheh,” Sans chuckled, “i know you will.”

“Soo…” Frisk glanced down upon her tired, battered body, “It’s all done now?”

With an exasperated sigh, the small skeleton stretched a small foot out to catch a chair, dragging it over and heavily seating himself. “yep, told you it’d be quick. the drug just had to be counteracted and we… well, _acted_ in time.”

Nodding, Frisk’s moon-like eyes roamed around the room, assessing her surroundings as if it were the first time she managed to get a good look at the unkempt yet sophisticated lab. Well, it probably was; and it looked absolutely _nothing_ like a human hospital. No wonder she was always here instead.

“what’s up?” Sans must have caught her goggling the complex equipment situated from afar.

She lifted a hand and gestured to such a device. “What’s that?”

Sans raised an eyebrow, turning his head towards her pointed finger and shrugged. “dunno. one of my pop’s weird contraptions that probably doesn’t work.”

“Ohhh,” Frisk pursed her lips, habitually massaging her stomach again, “So these are his experiments?”

“kinda?” the young skeleton was still shrugging, “some work, some don’t. i dunno what half of them are supposed to do, heheh. been busy since he came back from the void i guess.”

“Cool,” she smiled, despite her unrelenting fear of the unknown. “A lot of science-y stuff. I thought you liked science-y stuff?”

“i do. or i did,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hands, “not anymore though.”

“Sans?”

“yeah?”

“When does the medicine work?”

Sans frowned darkly. _Which do you mean, the one that nearly killed you or the one that saved you?_

“if ya mean the magic one, three weeks, give or take,” he glanced up to face her, mentally noting her fingers digging into her shirt.

“I mean the one just now...” Frisk licked her lips, grasping her stomach like a stress ball. “just...just now...”

“you ok?” he quickly glanced towards the monitors… everything seemed fine, nicely in the green, but yet... “you in pain?”

Frisk nodded affirmatively, “It’s ok, I’ve had worse. Me sleepy.”

“ok,” still somewhat sceptical of her behaviour, he inched closer and shot her a kind smile, “you mind if i take a look at that first?”

She shrugged him off, not seeming too bothered about it now that she were somewhat comfortable with what was going on. “If you want, but I'm... I sleep...”

Offering a hum of acknowledgement, Sans carefully drew back her fuzzy striped jumper and noted the tubing sticking out of her belly; most likely the source of where the pain was coming from...

To his surprise, the sound of elevator doors rolling open almost made him jump, heralding the return of his father. Flicking his gaze towards him, Sans could see the man was troubled and briefly wondered what his unexpected trip was about.

Gaster wordlessly approached the child lain out before him, his attentive eyes examining her body and curious as to why her sweater was pulled back. “Is everything alright?”

“yeah,” Sans whipped the cloth back over the child's body, giving her a gentle pat on the tummy, “she has a stomach ache, pretty sure it’s because of the IV.”

“Hmm,” Gaster still seemed suspicious, hastily slipping on a pair of gloves and stepping toward his subject himself, “Let me see.”

After pulling back the sweater again, the scientist manoeuvred his fingers across Frisk's abdomen, pressing down on the pressure points and mentally noting his findings.

“Does that hurt?”

Frisk shrugged, “A little, it’s ok though.”

“Hmm,” Gaster hummed to himself again, finding a rigid spot and frowning, “How about th--"

“OW!” Frisk screamed, slapping the invasive hands off of her, “That hurt!”

“Apologies. Let us keep an eye on that for now,” he stepped back, recovering the child's belly with her sweater, when out the blue his phone suddenly rang. Gaster raised a curious brow—his phone rarely went off while he was at work.

“i’ll get it,” Sans murmured, snatching up the vibrating phone and wandering off. “yeah?”

Frisk winced, scrunching her face up before relaxing again.

“yeah, he's here. ok.”

“Would you like a painkiller?” the scientist questioned the squirming child, receiving a frantic nod in response.

“it's for you.” Sans returned, outstretched with the phone in hand, it's Asgore.” He swore he saw his father roll his eyes at the news, which suggested the call probably had something to do with his disappearance earlier.

Gaster gestured mildly towards his experiment of the day, “Another three hundred milligrams of Ethaphine,” then took the phone from his son. “Yes?” he turned on the spot and stalked out the room, away from the noisy beeping monitors.

Following his father’s instructions, Sans hastily began to draw up the drug.

Frisk was grinning, “Soooo what was that about?” clearly she knew the man was in trouble in some way.

“dunno, but the fluffy pushover never calls us, so guess it’s something serious,” while he emptied the drug into her IV, Frisk bit her fingernails and clenched her jaw, rigid fingers curling into fists.

“Can we go to sleep after this?” she groaned through half-lidded eyes, “M’ so tired…”

Sans glanced up from his work, “sure. also,” he reached into his pocket, “i have your phone, if you’re bored.” There was undoubtedly a couple of games on there to pass the time whilst his father got yelled at on the phone for some inexplicable reason.

“Oh!” she grinned, flailing hands eagerly reaching out to grab it, “Thanks!”

“you should start to feel better soon,” the young skeleton tossed aside the syringe and winked at her, “you’re gonna be as numb as frostbitten toes in snowdin.”

Frisk made something of a noise between snorting and giggling, “Thanks… sorry I’ve been so annoying.”

Sans frowned in discontent, yanking up a chair beside the apologetic child and taking her hand, “hey, no, you’re no trouble, really. something for me to do other than being lazy, how about that?” he grinned teasingly, a small nudge at her shoulder causing another giggle.

Their giggly moment was interrupted by the return of the elder scientist, elbowing the door open with a frustrated sigh and stuffing the phone back into his pocket.

Sans snorted at the sight, “so? what’d he say?”

To his surprise, it was Gaster’s turn to grab a chair now. The frustrated scientist hauled one up beside his son, flicking his gaze between him and Frisk before releasing a long sigh. The two waited for the man to conjure up his words.

“I need to speak with both of you,” he stated calmly, “Ideally, Papyrus should be here too, but this will have to do.”

Both Sans and Frisk narrowed their eyes at the same time.

“what’d you mean?”

“Why am I involved too?” Frisk glanced toward Sans, then back at Gaster again.

The elder scientist blew out a tense breath. “Essentially, for the reason of what has transpired recently and in the past, _and_ if it is acceptable with you, Sans, I am assuming full responsibility over the child, therefore she will be living with us for a while, at least until this entire situation is over.”

Both small creatures were left stunned, Frisk more confused than anyone. It took a while for either of them to produce a word.

“But…” Frisk started, her frown narrowing deeper, “Why? What happened? Where’s mama?”

Gaster averted his gaze. “I spoke to the king, he, naturally, agrees.” He fiddled with the sleeves of his lab coat, inwardly rehearsing his next few sentences before continuing.

“The decision was you would either live with myself or the king, and we have just decided the former due to my extensive knowledge concerning humans and my dealings with you already. However, if you are not comfortable, or of course my current children are unhappy, you can live with the king.”

“it’s alright with me,” Sans offered quietly, “and i’m sure pap will be happy to have you,” he turned to face his father, “but why has she got to move?”

Once again, the man exhaled heavily, pale eyes deep in thought.

“Your mother… is clearly not equipped to deal with this situation right now,” he spoke slowly to the child whilst she listened with glistening eyes.

“The king concurs that she is in… some nature of denial about the extent of your ailment and fails to take the necessary action to keep you safe,” he craned his head thoughtfully, diverting his gaze to empty air again. “I suppose it is undiagnosed trauma from the loss of two previous children. Until this situation is completely over, the king and myself have decided to rehome you.”

Gaster finally leaned away, waiting for the two creatures to digest this bombshell of information. He watched them both stare at each other quizzically for a few moments, before pulling himself to his feet and leaving them to discuss.

Frisk had stiffened, and hadn’t relaxed since the news first left the man’s mouth minutes ago. She flinched when Sans held her arm, struggling to bring her back into the here and now.

“hey, it’s alright,” he offered quietly, giving her a gentle shake, “you’re ok. i’m ok,” he quirked a smile, “ok?”

She nodded vacantly, staring into oblivion as the gravity of the situation processed through her mind.

“wasn’t kidding when i said he’s starting to care, huh,” he grinned, playfully nudging her side again, “you’ve wormed your way into our lives so much he’s gonna literally make you live with us.”

Frisk blinked tearfully, “I’m sorry…”

“hey!” Sans’ eyes grew wide, “no no, that’s not what i meant. i’m happy you’re with us! papy will be real happy too. tori—your mom is hardly at home anyways so… maybe it’s for the best, y’know?”

“Yeah…” Frisk mumbled, turning onto her side and curling up, “M’ just gonna go to sleep now…”

“alright bud,” she received a reassuring rub to the shoulder, “shout if you need us, ok?”

She nodded, shutting her eyes and the rest of the world out.

**........**

**........**

“she’s taking the news as well as expected,” Sans downed the fourth cup of decaf coffee that hour, “guess we leave her to sleep and deal with it in the morning, heh.”

Gaster leaned into his hand, blinking tiredly. “I suppose so. How are you taking it?”

“oh, i’m fine with it. honestly i was expecting something to happen sooner or later.”

“Mm…”

“want me to give tori a call in the morning?”

“No,” he inhaled and exhaled deeply, “I would think it best if we leave the king to deal with her.”

“yeah, ok,” Sans yawned and lethargically rose to his feet, “welp, i’m dead. see ya in the morning pops.”

Predictably, Gaster only gifted him with a subtle grumble of acknowledgement and promptly began to slip his coat off, throwing it over the desk and heading to bed himself.

**........**

**........**

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep tonight, likely a result from the day they just had. Gaster, of all people, had nearly managed to make it through the night… until a noise startled him awake.

He froze, somewhat convinced the noise was deferred from a dream and there was no sound at all.

_Excellent. I am becoming paranoid._

Hesitantly, he closed his eyes to go back to sleep again, when—he was sure of it this time—there was a whimper.

For a moment, his mind instinctively assumed that this was Sans having another nightmare; something extremely common during the young skeleton’s childhood and he were frequently up at night trying to get him back to sleep.

But no, this was happening _now,_ and it was real.

Throwing back the covers and wearing nothing but a turtleneck and trousers, he strode to the door, navigating his way back to main lab in the dark. Following the intermittent noise, he was correct with his original assumption. Entering the lab, he found the child curled onto her side, sobbing.

Pausing for a second, he internally debated how to deal with such a situation. If he was going to be looking after this child he really did need to find a way to control these types of circumstances…

Ultimately, he meticulously paced towards her, “Frisk?” he questioned, taking a step closer, “Are you alright?” She was still whining to herself, most likely upset with the revelation earlier, the thought of losing a caregiver was no doubt a lot to process.

Rubbing his tired face in exasperation, he pulled over a stool to the child’s side. “Do you need to talk about our conversation earlier?”

The child didn’t move, her arms still wrapped around herself in self-pity, shuddered whimpers escaping her lips. Blowing out a quiet breath, he tried getting her attention, grasping her chin. Still no response. And she was very hot. “Frisk? Talk to me, child.”

Frisk shakily inhaled, mumbling something under her breath.

He turned her head towards him. “Pardon?”

She sniffed, shuddering as she inhaled rapidly, before finally mumbling, “My tummy…”

“Does it hurt?” he pulled the sheets back, and then her gown, pressing experimentally on her abdomen.

“Hurts so bad…” she gasped, squeezing it tightly, “Won’t stop hurting…”

Gaster tugged at his rugged turtleneck and frowned, “Wait here.” he left the child in search for one of his many projects. When he returned, he came armed with a massive white box on a crane, dragging it over to the child and fitting it above her stomach. “Just a scanner,” he offered before the child could inevitably overreact. Frisk nodded, the arms tightly squeezed around her stomach unyielding.

The machine flashed briefly white for a second, before a picture displayed on the screen.

_That’s..._

_Oh, heavens._

_There’s a bleed coming from the stomach lining._

_Thankfully, it’s a small bleed… at the moment._

Whirling the machine away, he strode over to the drug cabinet, grabbed a sedative and stuck the vial into a syringe. Then, he easily pushed the contents into Frisk's IV, white liquid flowing through and into her veins. To her right, the vital monitors began to flash red, beeping frantically like an alarm clock.

“Mmmm my tummy huuurts!” she cried again, tiny fingers grasping her pillow like her life depended on it.

“I know, and I know why. When you wake up it will be fixed.” He smothered a mask onto her face, “Deep breath.”

“No!”

“Deep breath, come on.”

“No!” she wailed, “I’m not doing it!” her eyelids were fluttering, so it was working.

_Out of all the human souls, why did this one have to be of determination?_

“You can trust me now, it’s alright. Deep breath."

_“NO!”_

He smirked, “As you wish.” Her petulant shouting was doing the job anyway. The flashing red numbers had blinked into a less alarming but still somewhat concerning orange.

“Nnnnnn" she groaned through numb lips, eyelids closing in their own. “Nnnnnooo...”

“I’m afraid you do not have much of a choice.”

Her eyes rolled in her head, desperately clinging to consciousness, but eventually rolled heavenward and fell limp.

He was about to get to work on his special subject of choice when her eyes flew open again, arms flailing and catching the collar of his turtleneck.

Slowly tearing her hand away, he groused, “Why can’t you just lie still and do nothing like a normal person?”

She whined, squirming without direction, “Doooon’t wannnaaa!!”

The scientist turned the gaseous medication up, “You are one of the most exasperating subjects I have ever had the displeasure of working with.”

She offered him a dazed grin, “But you still keeeept meeee!” the chortle ended on a cough, wincing.

“You astound me,” he grumbled, “I have given you an IV sedative and a gaseous sedative and you are still awake.”

“I’m sooo cooool!” she slurred, taking in a deep breath, “So coooool!”

_Clearly all it has done is make her delirious. Perhaps I miscalculated the dose._

_Fine, have it your way._

Frisk hummed, “Biiiig monster in my belly!” she squealed, attempting to grab her stomach, thwart by a hand catching hers before she could.

“Of course,” he disregarded her, pushing another drug through her IV.

_Hopefully, this will stop the bleed._

“It going brrrrr… brrrr…. brrr….”

“… What are you doing?”

Her drifting eyes struggled to meet his, “Tummy going brrrrrrr…”

He squinted. “…Right.”

_Strange child._

“Ummm…” she stretched, or at least attempted to, the man once again catching her wrists before she could whack something.

“Yes?” he turned off the gaseous sedative, switching it to oxygen only.

She cocked her head, “Where’m gonn’ sleep?”

“What do you mean? You can sleep here.”

“Nooo,” she sniggered, her grin wide, “When get outta heeeere… in yours… where sleep?”

Gaster set his hands behind his back, “You are talking about home, correct? We have a spare room, you will sleep there.”

Frisk rubbed her eyes, “Cool… very cool…”

“Hmm.” He plucked at his collar and sat down beside her. “You look tired. Perhaps you should sleep.”

Frisk aimlessly flopped her arm up and down. “Naaaah…”

_It was worth a try._

“Maaaybe you shhhhsleep?” she slurred, hugging herself, “I woke you… srry…”

“It is of no consequence,” he craned his head, noting the child squeezing herself again, “I have a feeling this is one of many events.”

“Have… have I told you…” she inhaled dopily, “About how… how tomato sauce is made?”

“Tomato…” he blinked, perplexed, “No.”

_And that was a no, you haven’t, and no, I do not care to find out._

“You… you get… tomato,” she slurred, raising her hands and vaguely gesturing as if she were holding one, “Tomato… and you… crush…” she smacked her hands together, “Like dat…”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah… and you put it in bottle… tomato sauce…” she sighed dreamily, seeming less and less lucid. Perhaps she would finally give in to the drug. “I wan’ tomat’…”

“You can have a tomato if you go to sleep,” he found himself negotiating.

_What on earth am I doing?_

“Yeah… wan’… really… rea’… tom…tom…”

Gaster sighed at her lethargy, stepping to the head of her bed and tightly grasping her face in his hands. “Listen to me, go to sleep. I’ll… let you have your…” he nearly chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, “You can have your _tomato_ if you do as I say.”

“Dun…. Dun…. How…” her lips were barely forming the shapes to move words.

“You can start by closing your eyes.”

“Clo…clossss…” she blinked sluggishly, “Shhhhh…”

“Close your eyes,” he stated simply, waiting for her to comply. When she finally did, he continued, “Now count back from twenty.”

“Tw…tweny?” her eyes remained shut although her words were rasped.

“Yes. Twenty.”

“Tweny…” she slurred, taking in a deep breath to form the next difficult word, “Nine…nint…nint…”

“Nineteen.”

“Nin-nintenty…eigh…eigh…” she inhaled again. But as she exhaled, no other word left her mouth. Her lips struggled, as if trying to say something, but eventually she must have gave in because her concentration face went slack.

Gaster waited for a moment, watching her face for signs of consciousness. A minute passed without issue; it seemed the child had finally gave up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he released her face from his hands and set off to find his clipboard.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk decides she wants to leave the lab by any means necessary, meanwhile Sans just wants to sell hotdogs while Gaster loses his sh*t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for references of blood

_“Nin-nintenty…eigh…eigh…” she inhaled again. But as she exhaled, no other word left her mouth. Her lips struggled, as if trying to say something, but eventually she must have gave in because her concentration face went slack. Gaster waited for a moment, watching her face for signs of consciousness. A minute passed without issue; seemingly the child had finally gave up._

_Breathing a sigh of relief, he released her face from his hands and set off to find his clipboard._

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

It had taken about an hour to get the majority of information down concerning the issue at hand, his findings and theories about the human soul’s desire to fight against a plethora of medication interested him the most. Never in his entire career had he ever seen a creature’s body so defiant against science.

At some point near the end of his conclusion he began to doze off again, slumped over his cluttered desk and lightly sleeping the rest of the night away.

Until a familiar sound woke him up.

Crying. _Again._

Dragging himself upright from his desk, Gaster veered around to look at the—

_Good heavens. There’s blood everywhere._

Shooting to his feet and striding to the upright child’s side faster than his half-asleep mind could process, he pulled back the covers from the makeshift bed, dread hitting his stomach at the sight of blood dripping from her mouth.

“Sit back, sit back,” he urged, gently pressing on her sternum. _The bleed to the human’s stomach is worse than first thought._

“Wha—what’s—haaa—” she gurgled and threw up more blood, coughing the droplets out.

It was near impossible to fix this alone. “ _Sans!”_ he shouted for his son, holding the panicking child down with both hands. She stared up at him with bloodshot and terrified, pleading eyes, her face sunken and as white as the sheet she threw up on. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Sans surfaced from behind the door, scruffy and confused having clearly just been woken from a deep sleep. “oh shit, what the hell?”

“There was a small bleed in her stomach lining earlier, but it appears to have deteriorated. Her stats have severely declined,” he explained as Sans hurried over, glancing at the stats for himself and nodded his agreement, “We need to stop this bleed, bring me the scanner immediately.”

_This is why they were in such pain earlier. Damn it!_

Sans almost struggled to reach the overhead device but managed it, forcing it over with a push. “i know how this works, gimme a min,”

Frisk gurgled, choking on her fluids. “We don’t have a minute. She’s suffocating, suction her and I’ll do the scan.”

“kay,” the smaller skeleton was visibly doing his best to remain cool, vacantly following instructions like obedient sheep. He gazed down at her in pity, pushing the device into her throat to allow her to breathe, her eyes widened and wild with fear.

A brief white flash. Gaster audibly hissed at the picture.

_How on earth did it progress this rapidly without my knowing?_

“what is it?” Sans asked, still working and glancing up to look at the image, but it was too small for him to read at this distance.

“There’s a GI bleed in the stomach, presumably from the acute overdose.”

Frisk pressed a hand to her throat, her limbs shaking erratically as they fought to move. Sans furrowed his brow, still removing the fluids from her throat. “i’m sorry, i know it’s scary.”

She shook her head—or tried to—slamming a hand over her chest as she gurgled. Another alarm went off.

_I have not once stumbled upon this in my research, what on earth is happening?_

His son didn’t seem to share the same confusion, watching him expectantly as if waiting for a command he should somehow know.

“ _dad,”_ he prompted, gesturing down at the child, then at the loudly alarming monitor, “she needs to be intubated, the fluid is filling her lungs, she can’t breathe. yeah?”

_Right. Right._

“Alright,” he frowned, his mind completely blank and filled with abnormal uncertainty, “Do that,” he commanded simply, taking one large stride towards the drawer of tools and fishing out the necessities while the alarm continued to scream in his ear. Briefly he wondered when Sans had come across the knowledge that he somehow didn’t process.

He swiftly returned with the tools in question, suddenly extremely grateful he had his son with him. Sans immediately picked up specific tools and got to work, as if he had done this procedure a million times before.

_It seems there is still a scientist in you yet._

Gaster had wholly expected the child to be refusing this in a fit of screaming and crying and squirming, but instead she was completely limp and unresponsive. Assumably unconscious from trauma, or perhaps shock, or her body was failing…hmm… He shook the thoughts of a relentless scientist out of his head, and decided to just help the best he could.

“What do you need me to do?” it was odd that he was now asking his son this and not the other way around, but now wasn’t the time to be mulling over this.

“it’s fine, i’ve got it,” his son pulled a tube out and set it aside, stepping back and admiring his work as the monitor’s alarm silenced. “all done.”

Gaster narrowed his sockets and blinked, still reeling from all that just happened. “Stats are back up, well done. Unfortunately, we need to open the human up to get to the bleed. When did you gain the knowledge to do such a task?”

Sans gave a half-shrug, but wouldn’t take his eye off the child. “took a class on the surface at some point when i was trying to get back into science. but they focus more on humans now than anything else and it was boring so i quit.”

“Well. Thank the stars you didn’t find it _boring_ enough to quit mid-class or else this child might have just died,” he opened a pack of surgery equipment and poured them out on a tray, “You took biology instead of physics and chemistry?”

“nah, i didn’t even choose biology at all. but it’s mandatory on the surface now for monsters to learn human biology on the side of absolutely anything science related, and it was really boring.”

“That’s… odd,” Gaster muttered with a raised brow, “But I am pleased you still have an interest in the field after…” he trailed off, unwilling to think about the events surrounding the void.

Sans chuckled darkly, “i wouldn’t say i still have an interest in it after that… too many bad memories,” he snorted, “i just want to sell hotdogs.”

Gaster sighed, “Fair enough,” he excused while covering the child’s belly with a green gapped paper sheet—it was no doubt traumatizing for him to experience his father falling into the void. “Are you sure you want to help with this?”

It was going to be rather gory for someone that ‘just wants to sell hotdogs’.

“it’s ok. just do it.”

“If you need to leave at any point…”

“it’s fine, G. let’s just get on with it.”

Gaster pursed his mouth into a thin line, running his hands over his face. He had seen his fair share of this from the war, but this…

_This was **never** supposed to happen…_

“hey, if you don’t want to do it we can call an ambulance—”

“No. I am doing this.”

“thought so.”

He quietly slipped on some gloves, mentally shouting every word of profanity possible in his native language over the fact that they had to do this in the first place. Then took a deep breath.

“Alright, hand me the scalpel.”

Sans mutely obeyed with the most emotionless expression Gaster had even seen from the boy. He made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

“Retractor.”

Again the skeleton obeyed. Eventually, the problematic organ in question was exposed and…

“… Oh dear.”

“oh shit.”

The sight before them was simply a liquid cesspool of red.

_I should never have let it fester this much._

Sans’ eyes glazed over. His father was vaguely aware of him swaying.

“Sit down.”

“what?”

“Sit down, Sans.”

“ok.”

“I will handle it from here.”

Gaster remained by Frisk’s side, working on her relentlessly for the majority of the day ahead. Sans on the other hand only stared down the floor for hours on end.

“how's it going?” he had asked at some point, having finally come over his state of shock.

“Almost finished,” his father declared coolly, “The leakage looked worse than it was.”

“i can help now if you want.”

“No,” the man refused, “I would prefer you didn’t. If you would like to be of some use, you can hang another unit of blood, but you are not assisting.”

Gaster had to do multiple invasive procedures like this in the field, in the war... alongside Grillby and other veterans. This was not entirely a new sight for him. Sans, however... the same could not be said for him.

Sans snorted, tucking his face into his hands. Still cauterizing the bleed, Gaster shifted his gaze at his apparently entertained son for a second.

“Something humouring you, Sans?”

“heheh, nah,” he grinned, slouching further down the chair, “just, you’re a scientist but you’re doing surgery. it’s funny.”

“Is it?” he sneered, “I am ever so glad you find this situation amusing.”

Squinting, Sans’ grin dropped, “not like that. you know what i meant.”

“Indeed.”

Eventually, the operation was finished, the wound being sutured like a delicate piece of art.

There was going to be a long recovery ahead but... this was it now. They just had to focus on the fact that after this, they were going home with Frisk and could start to move on.

But first, they had to get over this difficult hurdle.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

“17:45PM… around eight hours since finishing the procedure. The child attempted to return to consciousness approximately twenty-seven minutes ago despite the many medications intending to cause the opposite. Determination is a peculiar matter… this was promptly corrected, however.” His eyes traced up and down the cluttered clipboard, “Vitals have been stable, no complications as of yet, despite having been a millennia since needing—”

“— _dad!”_

“—such a…”

“ _GASTER!”_

He shut off the recorder and ran like a bat out of hell.

Approaching the main lab, the aforementioned perfect vitals seemed to have jinxed itself as the happy hill-like lines were replaced with a long flat one, a bold red _zero_ flashing for immediate attention.

“What happened?” his hawkish gaze drilled into the dire state of the child’s vitals, apparently having managed to flatline with no discernible cause.

Sans was of course beside himself, “i don’t know! i was about to go to sleep and her stats just dropped to nothing?”

Gaster’s brow furrowed as his mouth turned grim, pressing two fingers into the child’s neck—he expected nothing but there was, surprisingly, a pulse. Whipping out a penlight from his pocket, the man shone it in his subject’s eyes, receiving an acceptable response.

He released a hesitant sigh of relief. “There is a pulse and pupillary reaction. It appears the equipment is faulty.”

Sans’ shoulders slumped with relief, his slits for eyes dazed yet ignited with unnecessary adrenaline.

“Frisk,” Gaster cupped the child's face, for once willing her to awaken, “Are you conscious?”

In response, her fingers twitched, a soft groan escaping her lips. Frisk was still an ashen shade of white. “Nnnn... nugget.”

_Wonderful._

Searching her body for a monitoring clip that had perhaps come loose, he was left with nothing but confusion when his findings came up empty. Her index finger was tightly clipped to a device, the wires trailing up and into her soul were stable and the transfusion drip was still working.

“what the hell's going on?” Sans paced on the spot, evidently as confused as his old man.

“Unsure. Malfunction with the equipment, perhaps.”

“i'll restart it. do i need to re-enter the dosage commands?”

“No, you should get an update with the latest stats automatically.”

The horrendously shrill alarm was soon silenced, flashing to a blank screen before booting to an accurate read out of Frisk’s vitals.

“That… looks much better.”

Back to normal. Excellent.

_Equipment needs testing._

The child on the other hand, unfortunately, was beginning to wake up.

“Nugget,” Frisk repeated her stance from earlier, lazily dropping a hand on her stomach and rubbing in circles, “I want... nugget.”

Sans made haste towards her, taking her arm away from the recently-wounded stomach. “you want nugs?”

“Yeah,” she grinned dreamily, reminiscent of the tomato scenario yesterday. “Want it... very nummy...”

“well,” Sans pulled at the strings of his hoodie, “you can have nugs when you feel better.”

“Yaaay!” she squealed, face slumping with exhaustion, “Nugget...”

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

Frisk waited for the two skeletons to leave the room; because the alarms went off for something that _wasn’t her fault,_ they had been annoyingly hovering for hours. Well… attempting to use magic that she tried so hard to supress in order to teleport out the lab was _kind of_ her fault… but _technically_ the monitors should be able to handle magic, right? All monsters had magic, and _this_ was a monster _laboratory._ During the past few days it was almost impossible to get some time alone without scrutinized supervision, so when she did, and was feeling more alert… it was time.

And this time she had to do it quicker.

Of course, there was always the possibility that her type of magic didn’t include teleportation, but Sans and Gaster could do it, so why can’t she? It was obviously because of the suppression medication that she wasn’t powerful enough to do it! All she needed to do was leave the lab and she would _never_ use magic ever again… and she promised that to any deity out there that happened to be watching.

Frisk screamed. The enormous cluster of magic emerged ten times stronger than she originally thought, setting fire to nearby cloth and searing her own skin.

Flames roared at her feet, burning through the roasting blankets and melting the pristine white into a scorched black. She heard heavy footsteps thundering into the room, before a furious roar reverberated around the chamber.

_“ **What** is the matter with you, you **stupid child**!”_

Frisk’s gaze shifted rapidly between the scientist standing from afar and her illuminated hands, the tips of flickering red flames touching her neck.

“I just don’t want to be in here…”

“ **Why can you not just _behave? What_ is so _difficult?!”_**

She blanched white, “I just… I don’t want to be—”

“ ** _SIT DOWN!”_**

The sound of rapid small footsteps ran into the room. A dazed Sans swung open the door, half-asleep and still in his pjs.

“what’s—” he noticed the fire, “oh.”

“I-I can’t sit down, t-there’s a fire—” a flash of blue startled her—upon looking down, she were encased in the colour and suddenly couldn’t move.

“no, nope. don’t do that, let her go.”

“I have had enough of this. I save your life multiple times, I offer to allow you into my family, **_what do you want?”_**

“g, calm down. put her down,” Sans had one eye on the kid’s trembling, “this isn’t the way.”

“I’m-I’m sorry—” she squeaked, forced to look at the enraged man, “I just wanted to get out—”

“ ** _You are not getting out of this room until I am done with you.”_**

“gaster, stop it, put her down.”

“I’m sorry!” she squealed, struggling to move but failing, “I—I just—I wanted—Please—”

“You _foolish_ child,” the man muttered, his voice lowering slightly, “You cannot handle another magic deficit, do you understand? You will die.”

“I just—I wanted to—I wanted to—Please—” she shuddered, gasping, “Please don’t—don’t hurt me—please—”

The man’s icy glare melted into concern, then guilt, before dropping the magical hold on her entirely. He simply lifted a hand to quell the fire away, and watched with keen eyes as she collapsed, Sans doing his job for him and running up to see her.

“ok, hey it’s ok,” he muttered in the depths of ashy smoke, supressing a cough, “im sorry about that. he’s… he gets like that.”

“Why?” she whispered hoarsely through innocent brown eyes.

He sighed, “i dunno. he’s been like that once or twice when i was a baby bones.” Sans winced at the memory, running a hand over his face, “pap was never a problem, it was always me. maybe it’s cos he didn’t know any better and i just liked pushing boundaries. sure showed me.”

The father’s tirade wasn’t over. “If you had just done as you were told from the beginning we would not be in this very room right now. Because of your reckless behaviour, you are constantly putting yourself in danger. For such an apparently adept child I do not understand why you resort to such irrationality.”

Frisk bit her lip, shrinking away from him despite the distance they still held, “I—I just wanted to get out the room, that’s all…” she leaned into Sans for protection, as if expecting the other man to lash out any second. In response the small skeleton lightly rubbed her back for support. “I didn’t mean to make you angry…”

The scientist seemed to flash through multiple emotions with cold steel eyes, conjuring up a strategy before finally gesturing towards the table she slipped off of.

“Then we will do this my way,” he stated finally, “Get back on the table, lie there, and don’t move.”

Frisk froze, feeling Sans’ hand curl around hers as she internally began to panic. “But… I don’t…”

“Get on the table,” he demanded more vigorously, “ ** _Now_** _.”_

Swallowing hard and knowing she was in trouble, Frisk picked herself up off the floor and took a couple of small steps back, legs banging into the table frame as the cold steel bit her skin. She watched him, as if waiting for confirmation, but he only furrowed his gaze further.

Reluctantly, Frisk jumped up, laying herself back down on the semi-reclined makeshift table, or _extremely uncomfortable deck chair_ , and curled into a ball. It wasn’t long before she felt Sans by her side, resting a hand on her shoulder and whispering reassurances as his father began to make his way over.

Her gaze flickered over to Sans, and she whispered worriedly, “I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”

Sans offered a sympathetic smile and a half-shrug, “kinda. don’t listen to him, take it from me. just wait for him to get out his mood and ignore everything he says. he doesn’t mean it.” A frown formed on his face, a lone finger pulling down her collar, grazing her burning throat. He quietly murmured, “you’ve burned yourself. that’s why he’s upset.”

His suspicions were confirmed when the man donned a pair of gloves and stared at her neck like it was the world’s biggest threat. Fearing being hurt, she watched him like a hawk as he sat down behind her, and quietly whispered, “I’m s-sorry… I didn’t…” the man was ignoring her, picking up some obscured tools as she continued to mutter, “I didn’t mean…”

“Open.”

She frowned with uncertainty. “Wh-wha…?”

He wiggled a penlight above her face, “Open your mouth.”

“Why?”

“I need to see the burns.”

Clutching her sweater, she shot a glance over to Sans, as if asking whether it was safe. The young skeleton nodded, and thus she obeyed, not liking the idea of the man that could practically burn a hole in her soul having intimate proximity to her at all. She felt her friend grasp her hand as the scientist examined her, _really_ hoping there wasn’t anything wrong that would infuriate him further.

His eyes studied her above his glasses, before finally murmuring to himself more than anyone else, “Partial thickness burns to the larynx, possibly to the vocal chords…”

_Oh no... he’s gonna be real mad…_

“she only used magic for a second.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “ _Supressed_ magic, Sans. It is possible it manifested twice as strong due the fact.”

“I th—” she gagged; the man retracted his tools so that she could speak, then she took a breath. “I thought, you said, that it’d be gone?” her voice was abnormally raspy.

“Your magic? How many times do I have to say this?”

Frisk shrank in on herself. _Shut up. Stop talking, you’ll make him mad…_

“Supressed. It is not gone. Your magic will _never_ be gone. You will not be able to feel it, it will be as if you didn’t have it at all. But it is still there. You are still able to summon it. Do you understand?”

She nodded silently, clawing at her palms with anxiety, as he fished around through the table drawers for something else. Eventually he found a tiny canister of something, then glanced towards her again. “Interfepenem. To reverse the damage. Open.”

Fearing a blast through the neck with duality magic, she voluntarily obeyed without risking another question.

Well, this spray was _definitely_ a new invention. She could practically feel her burns _melting_ away at the touch. Quite possibly was a necessity with so many monsters inheriting some form of fire magic. When he was finished and the invasive hands left her mouth, she pursed her numb lips experimentally, a weird aftertaste as if having just taken a powdery paracetamol.

“Feels better,” she mumbled roughly, “Thanks.”

The other man reached across her to grab something the opposite end of the table, “Don’t thank me yet. You will be opposed to this. However, I strongly advise you to do as I say.”

Feeling her stomach tense up with hesitation, she shifted her glance over to Sans, who solemnly nodded his agreement.

She felt the semi-reclined table crank down flat, and immediately her brain pieced together what was happening next. Evidently either her expression or the erratically beeping monitors gave it away because Sans’ hand was suddenly tightly intertwined with hers again.

Her breathing quickened anxiously, and the familiarity of one hand tipping her jaw up and the other smothering a mask onto her face made her frightened heart beat so fast she was sure she was going to pass out before the drug had even began to take effect.

“I am going to put you in an induced coma for a couple of days,” that sentence didn’t do much to help her panic, the sound of hissing air beginning to seep through the mask. Sans tightened his grasp on her hand, the knowledge he was there being the only grounding tool she had.

“I would like to give your body time to heal from the past few days of stress and eliminate the risk of a situation like today recurring again. Once you awaken, we can immediately go home.” As if attempting to be reassuring but doing an incredibly bad job at it, he added, “This will be the last time you sleep within this laboratory.”

Part of her mind was happy that she was finally going to be free of this forsaken place, but an _induced coma?_ Left defenceless and vulnerable and weak in the hands of someone really angry with her? Someone that is known to like experiments? Someone that has expressed interest in her determination? What if she never wakes up again?

Not daring to move lest she provoke the already irritated man, she was left with her heart pounding so loud in her ears she could hardly think, vaguely aware of her panic from the rapid high-pitched beeping coming from behind.

She heard her captor sigh, the rubbery fingers on her face shifting slightly. “There is no reason to be alarmed. I am doing this to avoid another situation like today. When you awaken, we will be at home. All you need to do is relax.”

Was the room spinning or was it just her?

The loudly pulsating beeps blended with her own thumping heart, her own heavy breathing. Her eyes were watering, fingers curled and digging so tightly into her trouser leg it almost hurt. Very vaguely aware of the man tipping her chin further upright, she groaned as her desperate hold on to consciousness was very quickly diminishing, not even determination could save her now. Everything was awfully blurry, and she was somewhat aware of Sans rubbing circles into the back of her floppy hand.

She saw the man’s mouth move, his eyes shifting to something on his left—probably Sans, before what seemed like only a millisecond later he was pushing a white substance into a tube. Moments after that, she felt her face flush warm, overcome with weakness as her conscience suddenly begged for sleep. Her eyelids fluttered precariously, and before she knew it she was asleep.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

“…pops.”

… ”Yes?”

“was that really necessary?”

“Yes.”

“no, you put her in a coma ‘cause you were fed up with her.”

The scientist heavily sighed, his mouth firm with frustration. “Sans. Each and every time we get closer to going home, she does something equally as absurd as the last and harms herself again. The child has absolutely no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. It is safer to simply have her lay immobile to recover so there is no chance of further complications.”

“it’s not really ethical though, is it?”

“It is in my eyes.”

Sans scoffed, “of course it is, everything convenient for you is _ethical_ as long as it serves _you_ and only _you_.”

Gaster rubbed his temples, “Are you attempting to elicit an emotional response from me in order to feel better about the situation? If so, I direct you towards the child’s mother, the sole reason of why we are here in the first place.”

The young skeleton gave a bitter laugh, “stop blaming everyone else, g. you lost your temper at the kid, that’s the reality of it.”

For a moment, the two shared a tense silence, Sans’ words evidently having some effect on the stubborn old man.

“lets just…” Sans blew out his cheeks, “i dunno, try not to argue. for the kid’s sake.”

Gaster turned his face away and mutely nodded. “Tomorrow, you can begin to renovate the child’s room, if you wish to do so.”

Sans snorted, thankful for the change of subject, “nah, can’t be bothered. i’ll ask pap.” His response drew a quiet chuckle from his father, knowing full well that any nature of manual labour was lost on the young skeleton.

Sounds like the next step was to go home with a new family member.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk tries to return to a normal life and wants to prove to her new family that she can do things herself. You can guess what happens from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 chapters already?! Damn lol!  
> Also, this is the most words I've ever written for a fanfic, just noticed.
> 
> Anyway here's Frisk trying to get back to a normal life... lol

_“let’s just…” Sans blew out his cheeks, “i dunno, try not to argue. for the kid’s sake.”_

_Gaster turned his face away and mutely nodded. “Tomorrow, you can begin to renovate the child’s room, if you wish to do so.”_

_Sans snorted, thankful for the change of subject, “nah, can’t be bothered. i’ll ask pap.” His response drew a quiet chuckle from his father._

_Sounds like the next step was to go home with a new family member._

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

“if we’re going outside, you need to wear your coat.”

Frisk pouted at the request, whilst staring longingly out the rainy window, nonetheless allowing Sans to slip on her oversized fluffed up coat.

Well, it was _his_ coat; she’d turned up to underground with only a striped sweater. The fact that the small skeleton was the same height as her, if not slightly taller, was a small stroke of luck.

“But it’s too big for me!” she whined, flapping her arms around and watching the sleeves flop alongside.

“well, either you wear a coat or you’re not going.”

“ _Whyyyy!”_ she moaned, stamping her tiddy little feet, “Why can’t we just teleport?”

Sans softly exhaled, “cos. teleporting makes us tired, kiddo, it should only really be used in emergencies,” he gently nudged her arm, “same reason we can’t just spawn blasters when we feel like it.”

The skelefam plus a human child had promised to spend the weekend away from home, Frisk wanting to get out and about instead of staying cooped up at home. It had been a week since they got home, about two weeks since her surgery, so they supposed it was safe.

Either that or they didn’t want to take the child’s whinging anymore.

Frisk heard heavy footsteps approaching, recognizing the pattern as Papyrus’. Evidently from his sudden elated shouting, she was correct.

“Human! Might I say, I am very glad you are living with us! In fact, I’d say you’re the best roommate we’ve ever had!”

“she’s the _only_ roommate we’ve ever had, bro.”

“…Still! It is wonderful!” the skeleton clapped her on the shoulder, to which she giggled.

“I have to admit, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with you guys!” then she paused, and chuckled to herself, “ _It is with you two, at least.”_

Sans snorted having overheard her mumbling, agreeing to some degree. “c’mon, pops is doing his best.”

Frisk was about to argue with that, when she heard a door from afar squeal open, slow footsteps creeping out before the door squeaked shut again with a _thump._

“hey pops.”

“Hello! We were just about to leave!”

“Good morning, you three. I apologise for not being able to join you, I have some work to get back to. I hope you will enjoy yourselves,” he turned to Frisk, eyes narrowing, “Have you taken your medication?”

She scowled back at him, “ _Yeah,_ I took it this morning.”

_Stop badgering me._

His eyes softened. “Good. Try not to stay out in this weather for too long.”

Papyrus grabbed the child around the torso, pulling her and the oversized coat into his embrace. “We’re going to get donuts, and then we are going to find the new library, and then we’re going to the park! I will protect the human, guard them with my life!”

The corners of Gaster’s mouth quirked in amusement, and perhaps slightly of relief. “Excellent. I trust you, Papyrus.”

The youngest skeleton seemed delighted at the encouragement, “I will start the car! I know it will take you ages to do it, Sans!” he strolled out the room as if a skeleton on a catwalk. Frisk snickered to herself at the sight.

“i’d better help him,” Sans snorted, tapping Frisk around the back of the head, “c’mon kiddo.”

The eldest sibling swung the door open, before a stern voice resounded from behind.

“Sans.”

Somehow, he knew there was going to be some kind of a lecture before letting the three loose alone. He sighed.

Sans turned around and pretended to act surprised, “yeah?”

His father stared him dead in the eye, but only uttered “Keep me updated.”

“i will,” Sans exhaled, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, “if one of us gets hit by a car you’ll be the first to know.”

Gaster frowned, “I’m serious, Sans.”

“i know, i know,” he held off from rolling his eyes until he was facing the door again, jerking his head to the outside world at Frisk. She quickly tiptoed out the door, Sans following diligently behind. “she’ll be fine.” he knew the new child was the only thing his father was concerned about right now.

Sans waited for his grunt in acknowledgement, before shutting the door behind him. Frisk was waiting outside—she smiled.

“heh,” Sans pushed her gently onwards, “glad that’s out the way. grillbys on the way back, yeah?”

“Yep!” She jumped up excitedly, bounding over to the car. Even the sheer look of the energetic child made Sans want to go back to bed.

He exhaled wearily. This was going to be a long day.

**_..._ **

**_timeskip_ **

**_..._ **

“That was so cool!” Frisk was still jumping around seven hours later, half a burger still in her grasp, “I really wanna get a new coat! Can we go?”

Papyrus looked about ready to drag her through a cross-country mall exhibition.

“tomorrow, kid, please?” Sans dragged a hand down his face, staring down at his phone, “i’m beat. and it’s getting dark.”

And his father was getting exceedingly stressed judging by his ever more frequent text messages.

Frisk pouted as if they had only walked up the road and back. “But I’m sooo awake! And, also, tomorrow if it rains, I’ll have a new coat to wear!”

“yeah, i know,” Sans grit his teeth – and he thought Papyrus was energetic. “tomorrow, ok?”

“Fine.” she sulked, kicking her feet as she walked and taking another bite of the burger, “But we have to go looking in all the different stores!”

“yep, we’ll go look round the entire mall. whatever makes you happy, bud.”

_just not today._

“Yay!” Frisk perked up again, galloping ahead now that the house was within seeing distance, “Race you to the house!”

That caught Papyrus’ attention. He chased after her, both friends laughing as Papyrus, quite obviously, let Frisk take the lead.

“Oh no! You’re faster than me!”

Sans snorted as the two run ahead, sending a final message to his father.

 _“pap and the kid are on their way up to the house right now. im walking.”_ He tucked his phone away, relishing the few quiet moments as dusk settled around the peaceful town.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

By the time Sans made it into the house, Papyrus was already getting ready for bed. Frisk was lounging out on the sofa, Gaster staring at her from his chair opposite the room.

It had been a long time since he’d seen his father _this_ stressed for the well-being of his kids, the last time was when Papyrus was born… he remembered that well. Not to mention his brother shared the same energy as Frisk, both of them getting themselves into trouble accidentally. Although with Frisk it was a little more… serious.

But now it was happening again with this new addition to the family.

“Why does Papyrus go to sleep so early?” Frisk asked from the couch, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it tightly.

Sans gave a half-shrug and sat beside her. “scoot up,” he mumbled, waiting for the kid to give him room, before exhaling softly in thought. “he wakes up early and goes to bed early.”

“You go to sleep all the time,” she grinned mischievously, leaning into his hoodie, “So lazy!”

“but cool,” he smirked back, patting her on the head. “you look real tired. wanna sleep?”

She shifted, making herself comfortable as if she would be there all night.

“Okay, but don’t wanna move... I sleep here.”

“seriously?” Sans snorted, “i'll carry you, c’mere.” Two hands wrapped under her arms and hauled the child over his shoulder, a little bit of blue magic taking off the pressure.

When Frisk was all tucked up in bed, Sans headed to the kitchen to get her some milk and found his father dubiously hovering there, taking out black case from a cabinet draw.

“really?” Sans hurled the fridge door shut with a _clank_ , “she just had a good day, don’t ruin it.” It was the first time the kid had managed to get out the house and enjoy herself for a long while; which didn’t need to be spoiled by his father being domineering again.

Gaster predictably ignored him, refusing to meet his eye and gallivanting to Frisk’s room as if it were a race to get there first.

Sans stopped him in the doorway, “do it tomorrow morning, ok?”

Still staring down the doorknob, Gaster mumbled, “This is the longest the child has been away for weeks, I must check for—”

“ _there’s nothing to check,”_ Sans hissed, attempting to tug him away from the door and failing, “she’s done everything you asked, she’s taken your meds, and now she’s _trying_ to go to sleep.”

“I have to check, Sans. It will only take a second.”

“no, don’t bother, just…” he paused... His father’s futile effort at hiding the worry from his face caused him to sigh. “ok. only a minute, ok?”

Gaster deftly bowed his head in acknowledgement and nudged the door open, vaguely aware of Sans lingering back from behind.

He offered a curt nod towards Frisk, before slamming the door in Sans’ face.

It felt slightly enlightening.

Frisk raised a bemused brow, shifting onto her side to see him, still swallowed with blankets. “Hi!”

Flinging his case on the bed, he sat beside her and quirked a smile. “Hello.”

“You wanna check on me, right?”

“…Yes. How did you know?”

“I heard you and Sans arguing behind the door.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, weakly gesturing towards his case, “Hurry up. I wanna go to sleep.”

The other man’s gaze flickered to his clipboard, lifting the papers and reading them thoroughly.

“How have you been feeling?”

“Fine,” she mumbled, raking a hand through her hair. “Nothing changed since the last time you asked.”

Clearly the scientist chose not to acknowledge her sardonic attitude, mentally noting how quick the behaviour changed.

“Your voice sounds much better,” He declared, remembering the time mere weeks ago when she set fire to his lab. _Again_.

She smiled, albeit hesitantly, likely remembering the event too. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better now. I even managed to eat donuts and didn’t throw up!” she proclaimed proudly. Gaster quietly scoffed at her observation and nodded. Oddly, she seemed defensive when mentioning his check ins, and happy again when discussing the upsetting topics. He made sure to note as much.

“How is your stomach fairing?” he asked, pulling back her pyjama top. The swelling had almost completely gone, although left a scar from the surgery.

“It's ok. Sometimes...” … she stopped, chewing on her lip hesitantly in thought. Sensing a withheld _but_ , Gaster flicked his gaze towards her, to which she yielded. “Sometimes I still get tummy aches... but they aren’t bad.”

He nodded, examining the wounded area with his fingers. The area seemed fine to the touch, at least. “Thank you for being honest. I am quite certain this is just post-operative pain. I will give you some stronger painkillers.”

“It’s ok though,” she shrugged him off, tugging down her top to cover her belly again. “I can handle it on my own…”

“Hmm,” Gaster set aside his clipboard and reached for her neck; the area of a burn now healed. “Still experiencing difficulty eating?”

She shook her head, “Nuh-uh. Can't feel it anymore,” she beamed, whilst two hands prodded her neck for non-existent problems.

“That's good,” he returned to his case, retrieving a tool in each hand and hovered over her face again, “Open.”

She obeyed, internally wondering when he was going to let all of this go and stop doing all these useless checks.

“It seems everything is in order,” he stated, as if Frisk didn’t already know that. “Keep resting, you will be back to normal soon.”

Frisk resisted the urge to mention that her idea of _normal_ had disappeared a long time ago and likely was never going to return.

Not unless someone miraculously invented a pill to get rid of magic.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

“Can we go yet?” Frisk swayed impatiently by the door, waiting for the other three to hurry up and get in the car.

Yes, _three_.

Papyrus had insisted on the elder scientist coming along so that he’d take a break from the house and his work. Although laying it out to him in that way would never turn out well, so they used the term, “keeping an eye on Frisk while they were out” instead.

That appealed to him immensely.

By the time the four of them were in the car and halfway down the street, the scientists tirade restarted from the passenger seat in front.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” Frisk nonchalantly replied whilst staring frustrated out the window. As expected yesterday, it was still raining.

Frisk on the other hand wouldn’t stand down from her idea of the perfect day out to the mall, so they were tagging along anyway. Maybe she should get some boots while they were at it.

“Have you taken your meds?”

She froze.

_Oh... crap._

She was so excited about going out that she completely forgot about the meds... this was the first time she forgot to take them since coming home.

“I take your silence as a negative.”

Sans came to her defence, “was a pretty hectic morning trying to get into the car in this storm, don't blame the kid for forgetting.”

Frisk fixatedly gazed out the window as if the sheer forcefulness of her stare would cover up her more immediate problem.

Now they were gonna turn round and go home and her day would be ruined and everyone would be upset and—

“How convenient I happened to bring them with us.”

_Oh._

“You...” she blinked, breaking off her gaze with the window and meeting the man's eye, “...Brought them with you?”

His expression never faltered from his vacant stare, “I always bring spares, just in case.”

_... Of course you do._

Sans snorted with bemusement, both himself and Frisk watching him wrestle with his coat pocket for a packet, before offering it out to her.

Frisk recoiled, “I can't take that!”

“Why not?”

“I need water or something!”

“Swallow them without liquids then.”

“I can't!”

Gaster exhaled heavily, subtly rolling his eyes and tucking the medication away.

“Very well. We will eat as soon as we get there, you can take it then.”

Surprised by his understanding, she nodded her agreement and settled down. Gaster turned his attention back to his ever-present clipboard, probably scribbling notes about her forgetfulness foreshadowing her imminent destruction, or something along those lines.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

“That one!” Frisk squealed, pointing at an enormous shop exterior. Twinkling silver lights hung from the entrance, inviting an excitable customer like Frisk into the department store.

The mob scene of people both human and monster was a sight for tired, sore eyes. After being cooped up in one building for a while this made a stark difference.

Except for a certain group of monsters, probably teenagers, laughing obnoxiously together as they sauntered down the mall; it was slightly intimidating.

Inside the clothes store, Frisk was immediately captivated by a fluffy blue coat, slightly darker than Sans’ hoodie, the hood itself a cloudy grey. Frisk slipped past a couple of children, slightly smaller than her and grasping toys, waltzing up to the display coat and feeling the cloth.

“It’s all soft and cosy!” she exclaimed, flapping the sleeves around aimlessly. “I’m gonna try it on!”

Sans glanced around the immediate area for Papyrus, concluding that he had apparently already found something that fascinated him enough to demand his attention.

Frisk grabbed the first coat in the rack and was about to walk off with it.

“hold up, you’re a size extra small, i think,” Sans sifted through the shelf of coats until he found the right size, “here.”

Frisk grabbed the better-fitting coat, switching it out from the bigger one and pointing towards the changing rooms. “I go try it on.”

“ok,” Sans gave her a reassuring pat on the back, “come straight back, ok?”

“Yeah yeah,” clearly she was feeling more like herself going by the reply dripping with sarcasm. She skipped over to the gap at the back of the building to try on her newfound coat.

Both Sans and Gaster watched her leave.

“gonna be nice for the kid to wear something other than the twelve duplicates of stripy blue jumpers.”

Gaster however was preoccupied by something else. “She hasn’t taken her meds yet.”

“yeah, i know,” Sans resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “we’ll go to a restaurant as soon as she’s got her coat, k?”

_he thinks too damn much._

_can’t even take him out to a friggin’ shopping centre without him worrying._

Gaster numbly nodded, seemingly absent as if he hadn’t taken in a word his son just said.

“i’m gonna go find pap, you can come if you want. or you can just stay here and sulk, whatever works,” Sans teased with a wide grin, before leaving to find his brother.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

Back in the dressing room, Frisk was one-hundred-percent sure that this was the perfect coat and there was absolutely nothing else on earth that would fit like this one.

_I’m gonna surprise them with my new coat!_

Frisk happily strolled back out into the main room, scanning the area for the checkout and found a cashier without any customers. She hurriedly powerwalked over, hoping she’d get there before anyone else could start a queue.

“Hi!” she announced, tossing the coat onto the counter and searching her clothes for pocket money.

“Hi there,” it was a human woman; the smile was as fake as Burgerpants, but hopefully her enthusiastic attitude would cheer the woman up.

“How are ya doing?” Frisk asked, pouring the money out on the desk, having no idea how much she had but Sans had said it was _enough._

And rightfully so, as the woman took only half of it and began to drop it into the register.

“I’m alright. It’s nice out today, isn’t it?” a standard reply, but her eyes seemed slightly more sincere. Frisk nodded.

“Yep, it’s been a long time since I’ve been outside all on my own!”

The woman smiled, “You’re on your own?”

“Yep!” Frisk grinned again, then paused… “Well… I’m with my family but I’m buying the coat all on my own!”

“Oh!” the cashier subtly poised several coins back into her nest of pennies and gave a wink, “I’m sure they will be very proud of you.”

Secret money! Yay!

“I hope so! I want to prove I can do stuff all on my own!” she threw her hands in the air, before collecting all her change together, stuffing it into her trouser pocket.

“I can certainly vouch that you can, well done,” then she paused, craning her head to the side, “Forgive me for asking, you seem like such a kind girl and I can’t help but notice, you’re awfully pale, are you alright?”

Frisk’s eyes widened, taken aback by the question. Usually the shop workers she came across never asked questions like that.

“Sorry! Sorry,” the woman mumbled, shaking her head, “I shouldn’t have asked…”

“No, it’s ok!” Frisk grinned, then shrugged, “I haven’t eaten, but we’re going to do it right after this!”

“Oh, that’s good,” she seemed slightly more nervous now, probably thinking she had said something wrong, “Well, have a nice day now.”

“Thanks! You too!” Frisk bounced off with her coat, slipping it on as she walked. Now she had to somehow find everyone through the maze of aisles…

… _What is that awesome smell?!_

It smelt like… pancakes.

An amazing thought entered her mind… if Sans and Papyrus and Gaster found out she managed to buy her coat _and_ pancakes all on her own, they would be so proud! And maybe the old man would stop worrying all the time and accept that she can do things for herself now. Not to mention she was so hungry that her knees were all wobbly.

Besides, who knows how long Papyrus was going to be looking at chef aprons for?

Giving an assertive nod to herself, she sauntered towards the big green exit sign to follow the overwhelming scent of syrup pancakes.

The mall atrium was so crowded and full of different shops, Frisk almost didn’t notice the small blackboard in the distance with a pancake drawn on it in white chalk. The text reading _‘delicious pancakes here!’_ was so tiny she briefly wondered how anyone managed to find the shop from a distance.

_I guess they get their customers from passer-by’s._

“Hi!” she announced her entrance, feeling rather confident with her cool new fluffy coat. She’d have to take it off soon though, it was getting sweaty.

It was a monster this time, a cat-like creature. They studied her for a second before offering a greeting. “Hello, dear. What can I get you?”

“I dunno,” she eyed up and down the chalkboard menu, “I’ve never been here before…”

The creature drummed their fingers on the table in thought, their gaze flicking between the menu and Frisk, then smiled at the conclusion. “Do you like chocolate?”

Frisk grinned, “Uh-huh!”

Cat-monster mirrored Frisk’s beaming expression, “I have the most chocolatisty pancakes in the whole town! How about it?”

“Yes, please!” she stuck her hand in her trouser pocket, emptying the last of her change from the clothes store onto the table. The response from the creature’s side was eerily silent; Frisk glanced up, briefly wondering if she didn’t have enough money and how embarrassing it would be—but the cat-like monster’s ears had slightly flattened, face full of concern.

“Erm…” Frisk frowned, idly digging her hands into her clothes for more money, “Do I have enough money? I thought I had enough… pancakes are not too much, right?”

The creature’s frown morphed into a hesitant smile, “No, dear. You’re just very pale, is all. But maybe it’s the light,” she counted the coins with her paw, and nodded, to Frisk’s relief. “You have enough, go sit down and I’ll bring your food to you.”

Frisk nodded with a smile, that was the second person today who said she looked pale. Evidently she needed food as soon as possible. She skipped over to the groups of circular tables, seating herself down at one.

She couldn’t take off her coat fast enough. Frisk set her palms flat on the table, bracing herself as a wave of nausea hit her stomach.

_Maybe I should get a snack or something… pancakes take ages to cook, right?_

With that decided, Frisk heavily hauled herself upright.

Before her vision tunnelled.

She vaguely felt her body catching the side of a table and the startled gasps of other patrons around her as she hit the floor, before she was consumed by oblivion.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

_“Yeah, we need an ambulance here right now. Yeah. Yep. Right now. Only a few minutes ago. Yep. I don’t know, I’m in a restaurant, I saw her sit down when she collapsed and starting fitting, I have no idea who she is.”_

Frisk opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by strangers.

At least six people were crowding around her. Two men; one monster and one human, were on the phone, another woman was right beside her stroking her hair, she was pretty sure another guy was holding her knees down, and everyone else was blurry.

She groaned. Confused.

_Where am I?_

The woman that looked like a cat and was stroking her hair smiled at her, eyes lighting up as she noticed the child’s return to consciousness. She seemed almost… familiar? “Hey, sweetheart. You’re okay. Do you know where you are?”

Frisk lazily looked up, briefly glancing to the side (which happened to be mostly obscured by people) before giving up. She shook her head.

“You’re in the New Town hall, in the pancake outlet,” another man on the phone offered, then gesturing to her body, “Are you epileptic by any chance?”

Frisk blinked. “Ep…Epelelel…tick?”

The man sighed, “I take that as a no.”

“Do you know where your parents are, sweetie?” another woman said—who were these people?!

“I don’t…” Frisk slurred, her lips numb as if bathed in ice cream, “Don’t… no parents…”

The other guy on the phone frowned, “You don’t have any parents? How old are you?”

Frisk hummed. “Ten.”

“You’re ten?” the cat person seemed surprised, “Who’s looking after you?”

She blinked tiredly, loosely shaking her head, “Dunno…”

“Ambulance is on it’s way,” one man said, then nodded to the other. Both of them put away their phones.

“We need to find this kid’s parents. Who on earth let them loose like this when they’re so ill?”

Well, that was incorrect. “M’not ill…” Frisk murmured, closing her eyes, “M’just… m’just… tired…” she sighed, “Real… tired…”

Her legs locked up seconds before her vision faded to white.

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

_“Ten year old female, been seizing on and off the whole ride here, lost consciousness at the scene and hasn’t woken as of yet.”_

_“Do we know her name?”_

_“No, the bystanders say she was too confused. No parents were around.”_

_“I think she's waking up, look,”_

Frisk didn’t even notice her eyes had opened until that sentence was uttered.

Despite her disorientation, she managed to make out that she was in a hospital. And she didn’t like that.

“Hey sweetheart, can you tell me your name?”

Frisk shook her head, “No...”

“No?”

“No... get...” she inhaled sharply, “Ge' off me...”

“You're in a hospital, hun, you’re safe.”

“Noooo...” Frisk pulled her arms together, attempting to sit up as she was wheeled into a bay. “Go away...”

“I’m gonna see if I can find her parents,” some man declared before sauntering off.

Frisk fought against the hands that tried to settle her. “No... don't... touch... please...”

“Heartrate’s climbing,”

“Is she epileptic?” a woman asked as she drew the curtains shut.

“Not that we know of, it wouldn't explain the seizing all the way here.”

“Get off me...” Frisk murmured, attempting to pull the tubes out her arm. A hand stopped her.

This was just like that time... when... _when..._

“Don’t do that, it’s okay.”

“I don’ wanna...” she sat up again, much to the dismay of everyone else.

“It's okay honey, you're safe, calm down. Don't move, okay?”

She shrunk away from prying hands, “Noooooo...”

“It's ok--"

“ _NOOOO!!!”_

“Let's administer a sedative--"

_“No!”_

Her overstimulated mind vaguely registered someone taking her arm, and a sharp pinch.

“ _NOOO!”_ she screamed, a three-year-old having a tantrum.

“It's just gonna help you to relax, ok? Can you tell me your name?”

_“NO!”_

_“_ Your parents?”

“ _NO!”_

“I don’t think she’s talking, much less lucid.”

 _“LET ME GO!”_ she screamed, flailing her arms in an attempt to escape, “ _Get off me!”_

“Did you give her the sedative?”

As another blurry person tried to hold her down, Frisk jerked back and shrieked at the captors, “ _Stop touching me!”_

“She doesn’t seem to be responding to it?”

The lights were too bright, searing through her eyeballs and passing into her brain, flashes of traumatic memories embedded on her retinas. Frisk tried to shake off the person holding her down, but expending all this energy was beginning to get exhausting.

“Try point five milligrams of midazolam?”

“ _No!”_ she was running out of strength fast. “Stop touching—stop _touching me!”_ she huddled to the edge of the bed, breaths sawing in and out faster than her mind could process.

Before she could even begin to notice what was happening, her panicked body fell completely limp, then every muscle tensed up, an alarm sounded, and then once more there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Frisk is now missing. :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk gets herself into a bit of a conundrum, meanwhile Papyrus just wants to cook the family a nice pasta. (TW suicide intentions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I post this I want to say thanks for all the kudos thus far... it really means a lot, especially since I have comments turned off xD
> 
> Also... huge TRIGGER WARNING towards the end. I guess I got in a bad place recently and vented using the fic again lol. This is where it gets pretty graphic, so a warning right here for that. I strive to make this fic as realistic as I can so... that means no quick easy fixes to mental health, just like in real life. I hope you enjoy regardless. :)

_Frisk tried to shake off the person holding her down, but expending all this energy was beginning to get exhausting. “Try point five milligrams of midazolam?”_

_“NO!” she was running out of strength fast. “Stop touching—stop touching me!” she huddled to the edge of the bed, breaths sawing in and out faster than her mind could process._

_Before she could even begin to notice what was happening, her panicked body fell completely limp, then every muscle tensed up, an alarm sounded, and then once more there was nothing._

**...**

**...**

When she woke up, for a moment Frisk thought she had been dreaming. As if all of this was just a horrific nightmare and she’d really just fallen asleep at the pancake shop waiting for her order to arrive.

But going by the ever more perceptible sound of her heart beating, Frisk was living her current nightmare.

It then occurred to her that no amount of screaming and begging would do her much good if she seized and passed out anyways.

_Why am I even in here?_

Cracking open reluctantly heavy-lidded eyes, Frisk surveyed the environment around her.

It was a hospital room, that was for sure. It was white, clean, and smelled revoltingly sterile. Preparing herself for the worst, she glanced down at her immobile arms—to her surprise, there were only tubes running out of it, and nothing strapping her to the bed… not like last time.

She flexed her fingers and wrists repeatedly, making sure that she could in fact move them, before lugging herself upright. She almost failed to do so, her limbs numb and almost unresponsive like a ton of cement bricks, the world spinning as her vision adjusted to being vertical. And it was so, _so_ cold wearing only a thin hospital gown.

Glancing quickly at the machine she were hooked up to, Frisk had one goal determined.

_As soon as I disconnect myself from these monitors, the alarms will sound…_

_I’ll have to make my escape quick if I don’t want to be captured again._

Problem was, she had absolutely no idea where she was and where to even run to. The exit? But where _was_ the exit?

She took a deep breath and tried to think logically about this.

_Ok, if I just run like last time they’ll know I’m being bad… maybe if I just walk like normal, people will think I’m calm and know what I’m doing…_

_I just hope there’s no-one around to run to my room fast enough when the alarms go off…_

Frisk scanned the room for her coat. It was discarded on a pristine silver cabinet, her striped jumper ripped to shreds, although her coat was still intact. Thank the stars she hadn’t bothered to zip it up or else it would be in tatters too. She glanced down at herself, the sticky monitors on her chest a result of her jumper being torn up, probably to gain access.

Quietly and careful not to jolt the wires, she slipped on her new coat, placing her hands over her IV drips first and ripping them out. That didn’t set off any alarms as they were probably just feeding her fluids.

But the vital monitors would.

She softly inhaled, preparing for the fight ahead.

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three—_

**_BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep—_ **

****

Frisk ran.

She ended up behind a giant grey column, watching apprehensively as several important looking people dressed in white and blue starting hightailing it across reception to her now empty room.

The exit was in the distance, the illuminated sign glowing bright green and mocking her nervousness.

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

Frisk waltzed out from behind the column, setting her sights and staring fixatedly at the exit as she walked.

She got one or two looks from other patients in the reception, several of them narrowing their eyes or frowning at her probably obvious escape attempt.

Luckily or not, by the time she got outside it was raining, and she was armed with a coat. Taking off down the side of the building and into a nearby river stream, she ran as far as her little legs could take her, knowing that if she were found, there would be a repeat of the horrible event many years ago.

Once she was sure she was away from other people, Frisk finally let her wobbling knees collapse onto the muddy ground, rain dripping from her fringe and down her face.

She knew there was a reason why she ran far away from people, when the tremors started again. The trees began to tilt, until suddenly she was staring at the sky, her arms violently beginning to quiver, a stiffness passing through her throat as she struggled to breathe. At some point, loose mud flew into her eye, it stung but there was nothing she could do about it.

Eventually the shaking began to subside, until Frisk regained feeling of her limbs. It was as if she was coming out of another bad dream. A sense of calmness, emptiness… and foreboding that sat deep in her stomach.

Scared that she might accidentally trigger another episode, she carefully, painstakingly curled her fingers into fists, lifting her hands to her eyes and wiping the mud away.

Briefly, she considered crawling across the ground and down the slope to the river, to splash herself with water.

Before she could even beginning to set herself on that course, her head suddenly slammed back down to the ground, shaking much more violently then before. She gagged, choking on her saliva, suffocating her, choking her, refusing to let her breathe, enduring for another thirty seconds, staring at the bleak sky and the cold rain splattering on her face.

As feeling once again returned to her aching limbs, Frisk whimpered, accepting the fact that she was probably going to die here alone.

Then, an idea.

She whined, terror clawing at her throat, fumbling aimlessly through her pockets for her phone.

It was _off!_

She’d die before the stupid thing turns on!

Frisk’s short raspy breaths sounded almost animalistic, fearing that any second now another one was going to come on, and they would happen again and again and again until she’d die.

Still, clawing desperately for pieces of _hope,_ Frisk held down the button to turn her phone on. The screen flashed white, then black, then fell out her hand.

Oh wait, no. She was seizing again.

Her eyes were saucer plates, fearing that every episode might be her last, each one coming on faster than the last. As soon as this one ended, she immediately rolled over to find her phone again, hands and limbs trembling and quivering wildly it was a miracle she could pilot a phone. Whether it was out of terror or seizure, no-one would know.

Frisk’s hazy vision managed to clear enough to read the screen.

_Thirty-seven missed calls from WDG._

_Seventy-five missed calls from MOM._

So, the fact she was missing had spread then. How long had she been missing for?

She never got the chance to count the hours, her fingers freezing up as tremors controlled her body again, her chest a heavy ton of bricks.

_I don’t want to live like this._

Frisk mentally counted to thirty, gasping her way out of that one, struggling to find her phone as she tapped desperately on the screen, hoping she could call someone before the next one came. As she tried to scroll down her contacts, the wet phone slipped out of her hand, causing her to whimper knowing every second mattered.

Eventually she managed to get to the bottom of the list, tapping frantically onto the last name, WDG, and the following green button.

When the phone started to vibrate, she let out a sob of both relief and terror, hoping to god that there was signal out here.

She stared up at the sky, flat on her back, waiting for the next one to come.

**_“Where are you?”_ **

Frisk gasped, relief flooding her queasy stomach.

“Help” she cried into the phone, her legs beginning to lock up again, “Please”

If there was a reply, she had no idea what the man was saying because her body had decided to enter another fit. It was beginning to hurt now, her exhausted muscles tired from the tension of constant shaking, all sound from the world distorted.

She waited, vulnerable and helpless to the illness that threatened to kill her.

“ _… **are you!? Frisk?!”**_

Sound was coming back, which meant this seizure was ending.

“Help” she whimpered again. She didn’t know what else to say.

**_“Where are you? Talk to me.”_ **

“I—I keep shaking—keep…” she glanced down at her tremoring fingers, only barely grasping the phone in her hands, “Keep, sh-shaking, and, and, can’t, move…”

**_“Are you still in the hall?”_ **

“No” she choked, blinking the rain, or tears, out of her eyes, “I—” her eyes rolled back, gurgling as the seizure took hold again. They were becoming shorter and shorter, but were also coming on faster and faster, and much more violently.

**“ _…’hink she’s having seizures.”_**

The sound dipped out.

Then dipped back in.

_“… **been looking for you for seven hours!”**_

Oh. She’d been here all day.

“H-Huh-Huh-“ she gasped, trying to say one word, “H-Hos-Hosp”

**_“Hospital?”_ **

“U-uh-h-h h-h-hu-huh.”

**_“Which hospital?”_ **

She sobbed. “I-I don’t d-don’t kn-kn-kn—” she spluttered, a wave passing through her again.

A familiar darkness washed over her.

“ _… **FRISK.”**_

**_“TALK TO ME.”_ **

She gasped.

Another voice sounded through the speakers. “ _holy fuck.”_

Then the original one returned.

“ ** _Describe the area to me. What do you see?”_**

She licked her lips—bad idea. Another fit passed through her, and going by the sudden tricking coming out the corner of her lips she bit her tongue.

“Tr-tr-tr-tree” she stuttered, coughing up some blood.

“ ** _What else?”_**

Her eyes glazed over, a weakness passing through her limbs. The panic began to ebb away, and she knew.

It was time. This was it.

Finally.

Her eyes rolled back to the sound of frantic shouting coming from her phone.

**_“FRISK! TALK TO ME. WHAT DO YOU SEE?”_ **

No bother.

_“ **FRISK!”**_

“…’onna make some calls to nearby hospitals, see if anyone knows her.”

There was a few incoherent mumbles, and for a moment Frisk thought her hearing had finally gone.

**“ _Don’t you dare die, child.”_**

She would have quirked a smirk, but she had no energy to do even that. She did manage to groan through parted lips, to let him know she was still breathing. Barely.

**“ _Stay awake. Do not go to sleep.”_**

How ironic.

She closed her eyes.

**...**

**...**

The next time her eyes opened, she knew some time had passed.

And somehow her soul was still beating. Determination, perhaps?

No wonder the old scientist found it so interesting.

“ _…’s alright, we’re gonna find her, calm down. **This is my fault. I should have made her take the medication.** it’s not your fault. no-one knew she’d run off, she’s an idiot. **I should have known. She is going to die.** she’s not gonna die, we’re gonna find her.”_

The phone went silent for a while, and briefly she wondered if it ran out of battery.

_“alright, thanks pap.”_

Or not.

“ _see? it’s gonna be ok. promise. breathe, man, c’mon.”_

Oh, shit. Was he having an anxiety attack? Maybe that’s where Sans gets it from…

“ ** _I can breathe, the child on the other hand probably cannot._** _it’s fine. but you need to calm down. i get you’re upset but you’re draining your magic for no reason, you’ll need it to teleport.”_

She couldn’t see anything. but judging by the sudden buzzing in her ears and rigid muscles, she was seizing again.

When her limbs were freed, she became faintly aware of her soul. Something _pulling_ at it.

This is it. It was shattering. Her determined soul had finally given up and was about to shatter.

Well, she had given everyone the life they deserved back here on the surface… once they got over their grief for her, it would all be ok.

She managed to force two words out of her mouth. “M’srry…” before her back arched.

_“shit. frisk? you there?”_

_... “frisk?”_

_… “shit…wait, what the f—"_

A blue light.

The tugging at her soul stopped.

Something had her. Someone had her in their grasp, still wracked with spasms.

Now she was truly dead and was in the afterlife.

Oh man…

“holy shit. how did you…?”

“Clear the table, get me the medical kit. Now.”

It was warm.

“already got it here.”

It wasn’t dark. It was bright. And orange.

The sound of papers, books, ornaments and other items being swiped and clattering to the floor was concerning.

And she was just thrown onto something hard, solid. And not muddy.

“Thermal blankets.”

“ok.”

A finger pressed back her eyelid, something even brighter than the sun forcing its rays into her retinas. It went dark again.

Something pierced her arm.

She felt it.

… It hurt.

She gasped.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so distant.

It hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry. Just hold on.”

_It burns so bad._

“Hold still, I’m almost done.”

“Stop”

“Almost done.”

“Please. Hurts”

“Done.”

She had no idea what just happened, but her arm was on fire.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, a finger forced its way past her lips, yanking her mouth open as a tube slid down the back of her throat.

She recoiled, legs jerking automatically as if gripped by seizures again. The foreign object was promptly removed.

“I am inserting a tube into your trachea because your lungs are filled with fluid. Just relax.”

“Stop” she whispered, then croaked out, “Let me die”

“I’m not doing that.”

Her hand loosely searched for his lab coat, clutching damp fabric. “Please”

“No.”

She was about to refuse once more but the event repeated, her hand freezing as the tube slid down her throat.

“Manually inflate the balloon, I’m going to insert a chest drain.”

The object in her throat was jostled, probably from someone else taking over their torture session.

“how do i inflate it?”

“Like this.”

“oh.”

“so like this?”

“Yes. Keep doing that, and _do not_ stop under any circumstances.”

“gotcha.”

“Scalpel in the medkit?”

“yeah.”

Moments later, her right wrist was grasped and pulled over her head, arm stretching out and pulling on her chest muscles. She felt fingers firmly press down on her ribcage, before an odd sensation cut through it. It didn’t really hurt, just sort of… stung. She felt the same object down her throat now pushing between her ribs. It was an odd sensation, but there was a weird sense of relief afterwards.

Another prick in her inner elbow caused her mind to submit to the haze, overwhelmingly glad to see her vision tunnel with darkness until there nothing left.

Bliss.

**...**

**...**

When she woke up, she didn’t know how to feel.

Everything hurt.

And the longer she stayed awake, the more lucid she became. The weight of the last day was heavy on her shoulders.

She remembered everything that happened.

One minute she was shopping for a coat, the next she’s laying alone in the dark seizing uncontrollably. All because she forgot to take her meds.

To be frank, it was stupid.

She cried.

A hand landed on her shoulder, somehow hearing Frisk’s weak whimper.

“Hush. Go back to sleep.”

_Because that was easy._

“M’srry,” she mumbled without opening her eyes, “M’srry evryth’ ws so good n’ I messed it all up…” her voice cracked towards the end of the sentence, taking gasping breaths as the stress toppled her.

“Relax, please,” the voice uttered, and vaguely she felt her blanket pull up to her neck, “We can talk in the morning.”

Frisk snivelled, balling her fingers into fists and rubbing them nervously against her knees.

“M’too ‘wake to sleep…”

She thought she heard the man chuckle.

“We’ll see about that.”

**...**

**...**

Oh.

The sun is shining. Birds are singing. Flowers probably weren’t blooming considering the fact it was nearly winter.

And somehow she instantly passed out after telling the overprotective father that she wasn’t sleepy. How ironic.

She opened her eyes with surprising clarity and alertness, feeling a huge weight lifting from her shoulders as she came to realise she was still at home, and not back in the lab.

Briefly she wondered if she’d get her money back from the pancake cat.

That slim hint of contentment left her soul when Gaster walked in the room again.

All of a sudden she felt sick to her stomach. There was a vacant hole in her gut she wasn’t aware of until now.

Gaster watched her from a distance, his face hardening as he read the evident sorrow on the child’s face.

Frisk chose not to look at him, instead staring fixedly at the blankets clasped in her hands, face blank. “I’m sorry…” she murmured, eyes welling up with tears as the situation dawned on her. “I screwed up so bad,” she said with a sense of guilt.

The other man remained silent for a while, sorting through the many possibilities this conversation could derail down.

Eventually, he spoke. “This is not your fault. I should have made you take your medication at home, or in the car. Instead I let it fester,” he remarked, footsteps drawing closer, “At least now you know what happens when you don’t do as I say.”

“Yeah.”

The simple word was spoken with such resentment it left a long beat of silence between the two.

“Once I administered the medication you rapidly began to recover. There was nothing else wrong with you. Take from that what you will.”

Frisk rigidly wiped an eye and shrugged, her jaw clenched with bitterness.

“It’s never going to work out, is it?” she said in a dry tone, fists clenching even tighter. “No matter what happens, I can’t ever be happy. It’s the world’s way of telling me I don’t belong here.”

She audibly heard the man swallow hard, before he spoke again. “I apologise it took so long for me to get to you.”

Frisk ground her teeth, dragging her fingernails down her palms and hissing, “It’s not your fault.”

You could cut the tension with a knife.

She heard another footstep.

“Are you implying…?”

“That I want to jump out a window?” she scoffed, “Right now I do, but I know I can’t.”

Silence.

She felt his penetrating gaze probing her. Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

No-one spoke for the next few minutes, Frisk refusing to look away from her hands.

“I will leave you alone.”

She heard the door swing open, before she suddenly spoke, “I’m sorry I’m not like them.”

The door rattled shut again, a heavy sigh sounding from the back of the room. “What do you mean?”

“Sans and Papy,” Frisk shrugged, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around herself, “I’m… not like them.”

“Of course you aren’t.” the scientist sighed, his shoes tapping the ground as he drew close again, “You’re human.”

She couldn’t help but snort. “ _Yeah.”_

Frisk’s bottom lip jutted out, quivering as she tried to think of how else to add to that.

In the end, a sob escape her lips, then another, and another. Until she gave up and let herself weep hysterically, salty tears disgustingly wetting the pillow.

She heard a table rattle as something was picked up.

“Don’t even think about it.” she muttered coldly.

Said table shook as mentioned object was dropped again.

She had enough sleep to last an entire month.

“I am quite pleased that you are not like them.”

Frisk blinked and glanced up from the pillow, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. “What?”

Gaster cleared his throat, “It makes this interesting.”

She snorted, “I’m happy your number one experiment is exciting for you.”

“Now, now. No need for the attitude.”

“I can say what I want... you can't stop me.” Her voice was slightly muffled by the pillow.

“You will find that I can, I simply choose not to.”

“Cool.”

“Why are you unhappy?”

Frisk couldn't believe her ears. She snorted, “Why am I unhappy?”

The reply was slightly hesitant… “Yes.”

Really? Does he have short-term memory loss?

“I just wanted a coat and some pancakes, and I ended up in hospital. Again.”

The comfort of her pillow was abruptly ripped out from under her.

“What the hell?” she gasped, shooting a fiery gaze to the man with an outstretched hand, “Give it back!”

Gaster quirked a brow. “I struggle to hear your sarcastic tone when it is filtered through a pillow.”

“What?” she stuttered with confusion, shaking her head in dismissal, “You're so mean...”

Unsurprisingly, Frisk wasn’t granted a response, instead rewarded a hand forcing her forehead back down onto the mattress.

“Stop moving, you still have a chest drain.”

“Don't care.”

“I do.”

“Well I don’t!” she threw her hands in the air and reached for the pillow again, to which Gaster pulled it out of reach. “Just give it back!”

“Your behaviour right now is giving me all the more reason not to give it back.”

Frisk made an inhumane noise at the back of her throat and slammed a fist onto the mattress, “ _Give it back!”_

“Pacifist child, hmm?”

She stopped. That sentence hit her like a ton of bricks. Torn between wanting to run out the room and scream, eventually Frisk resorted to cupping hands over her ears and curling into a ball.

Out of sight out of mind, right?

… This wasn’t helping.

Teeth bared, she screamed gratingly into the mattress, drowning out the sound of her racing thoughts.

_Pacifist child?_

_Am I not a pacifist anymore?_

She screamed once more, hysterically, as if the first time wasn’t good enough, fingernails digging so far into her own skin she was vaguely aware of the pain.

_Stop. Stop. Stop. Make it stop._

She knew she was going to be in trouble for this behaviour.

So why not go all out? Why not release it all now since she’ll regret not doing so later?

Pulling her hair out, Frisk finishing screaming, lifting her face from the now damp stains from where she had been crying, head pounding and fuzzy from her own noise.

Her heart was hammering away, she could both hear and feel it.

_This is not the timeline I wanted,_ a little voice at the back of her head returned, _this is not the timeline I wanted!_

_Why can’t I be normal?_

The man opposite her who apparently opted to just stand and watch soon changed his mind when Frisk sat up, ripping the lines out of her body, barring the drain.

And she was well aware of the possibility of him interfering.

She instinctively ducked, a great insight considering she narrowly dodged the other man’s hands. Frisk almost felt triumphant of the fact.

Looking for the nearest thing to stop her thoughts, she surveyed the room, frantic wide eyes landing upon a chest of drawers.

She galloped over before the budding foster parent could react, yanking the top draw open and rapidly eying for anything that could put her out her misery. The draw was mostly filled with clothes, nothing that she could use to…

“ _Come here,”_ Gaster hissed from behind, grabbing her under the arm and dragging the child away from the draws. Frisk struggled, kicking and punching the air to get away but ultimately failed.

“No, get _off_ me!” she shrieked back, briefly considering biting but remember the man was a skeleton, that tactic didn’t work here.

“ ** _Sans_** _!”_

What?

“No, don’t—” she growled, kicking around aimlessly and biting her lip in frustration.

_Don’t involve him in this!_

To her dismay, Sans burst through the door moments later, blue fading out of his eye suggesting he just teleported up the stairs.

“the hell’s going on now? frisk?”

Frisk briefly managed to catch glimpses of the confused skeleton’s face before her captor suddenly boomed from behind, “Get the Abelfoxin, it’s on the desk,”

Her eyes grew wide again, “No, wait! Wait I’ll stop! I swear!”

“Will you?”

“i don’t even know what’s going on.”

For the moment, Frisk ceased struggling, sagging into her adoptive father’s grasp while she conjured up another plan.

Then, she exhaled.

“I… I go bath now.”

Sans craned his head, obviously still slightly hesitant at her sudden change of behaviour. “you wanna go bath?”

“Mhm.”

He paused thoughtfully, glancing between Gaster and the child before shrugging. “kay. might be relaxing, i dunno. i’ll go run it for you.”

Briefly, Frisk wondered how Sans managed to get Papyrus to calm down when they were younger. The same eccentric energies, on completely different ends of the spectrum.

She waited for the door to close, before Gaster spoke.

“Well, have you finished your tantrum?”

She blinked hazily, numbly. “Yeah.”

“In that case…” she was heaved into the air and plopped onto her bed. Her pillow magically reappeared on the mattress. “You can have this back. Allow me to remove your drain.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t really care for the pillow anymore. Maybe that’s why he gave it back.

Hearing the muffled sound of water running in the bathroom was a relief, the sound of normality.

Well, a kind of normality that would soon be ruined. She knew what she had to do.

**...**

**...**

The sound of running water hitting the semi-filled bath filled her with…something, but it wasn’t determination.

Perhaps a dull comfort, like hearing rain cascading down your bedroom window at night.

“nice and warm, just how you like it,” Sans offered an uneasy grin, “pap is making dinner tonight, don’t take longer than an hour, ok?”

“Yeah,” Frisk smiled back, then gave him a cheeky grin, “Now get out!”

She watched Sans leave. As soon as the door squeaked shut, her smile dropped. Without getting changed, she stared at the still water, a heavy feeling weighing on her chest. She knew what she wanted to do, but not if she wanted to go through with it.

What good was determination now? Was the very thing that saved monster-kind and reunited them to the surface, about to kill her?

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

Frisk numbly sat in the water, still fully clothed. It would take strength she didn’t have to get changed. Besides, it wouldn’t matter. Not after this.

One hand on the bathtub and the other on the shampoo cabinet, she yanked the door open, taking out a bottle of conditioner and spotted the scissors.

_Why are there scissors in a bathroom…?_

Then she remembered Toriel staying over while she was in the lab.

_Oh yeah. I forgot mom once had a family._

_Until I existed._ She grabbed the scissors with a spare hand, bringing them to her face and inspecting them with half-lidded eyes.

_But what if I didn’t?_

There was that voice at the back of her head again.

_What if I never existed? What would change?_

Aiming the edge over the brim of supple skin, she took in a steady breath and tried to calm the panic.

_It’s ok, just do it. Don’t half-ass it. Stop constantly causing them pain._

She wasn’t frightened or afraid when the first blotches of blood trickled into the water. Her pulse was beating in her ears, drowning out all other sound, only a faint buzzing.

Soon the clear water turned into a blood red. Just in case she were found, she turned the water back on, so that new untainted water would drown out the contaminated red.

Then, she waited.

**...**

**...**

“I believe humans call this dish, lazigzag!”

“lasagne, papy.”

“That is exactly what I said!” Papyrus puffed his chest out proudly, laying out four plates onto the table, “I followed the instructions by the cookbook!”

Sans snorted, “your comedic talents are improving.”

“Oh no!!”

“I must say, Papyrus, your aptitude in cooking is undoubtedly improving.”

“Thank you!” he sat down at the table with Sans and Gaster, picking up a fork and digging it into his special concoction of pasta, “I hope it’s good enough for the human, too!”

Sans and Gaster shared a look, “you mean she’s not out yet?”

Papyrus shrugged, “I don’t think so? I still hear the water running, she must be taking a shower!!”

His brother didn’t seem to be too worried, “give her a few minutes, she’s probably sulking.”

The family continued to go about their day, eating their lasagne that Papyrus had so kindly decided to make, the smell and texture much more appetizing than when he and the human first met.

Seven minutes later and the skelefamily’s chatter was beginning to grow quiet.

“give her a text,” Sans suggested, popping another piece of surprisingly edible pasta in his mouth, “probably doesn’t realise the time.”

Gaster hadn’t spoke since his appraisal of the feast in front of them.

“Don’t bother, I will check on her.”

The chair screeched backwards as he stood, drawing a sigh from his two sons that were now nothing but exasperated with the child.

Sans rubbed his face into his hands. “sorry ‘bout this papy.”

They were lucky the youngest brother didn’t mind. Papyrus beamed, “It’s okay!! I know the human is having a difficult time controlling their behaviour lately!”

“oh jeez,” Sans laughed, “you’re starting to sound like pops.”

Papyrus jumped up from his seat, “Actually, Gaster, hold on,”

The elder scientist paused on his way to the exit and turned around, “Hmm?”

“If the human is feeling sad maybe I should try to speak to her instead?”

Two people with bad attitudes probably weren’t the best mix when trying to communicate about it. Gaster seemed to hesitate for a second, glancing towards Sans for his mute opinion, before nodding at Papyrus.

Papyrus’ stark glass-half-full attitude became apparent when he jovially bounced up the stairs.

“Frisk?” he called out in a sing-song voice, his voice reverbing up the hallway, “You’re late for dinner!”

Deafening silence echoed throughout the house.

Sans’ head slumped into his arms on the table and groaned. This parade that went on nearly everyday was beginning to get exhausting; the child’s attitude was one that of a stubborn teenager. And how old was she? Ten?

He really dread to think what she would be like a couple of years down the line…


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find Frisk. Gaster snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo I decided the current storyline was getting pretty old, so I took it a step further. . and I'm not talking about the suicide attempt... it gets darker yet darker towards the end trust me

_Papyrus’ stark glass-half-full attitude became apparent when he jovially bounced up the stairs._

_“Frisk?” he called out in a sing-song voice, his voice reverbing up the hallway, “You’re late for dinner!”_

_Deafening silence echoed throughout the house._

_Sans’ head slumped into his arms on the table and groaned. This parade that went on nearly every day was beginning to get exhausting; the child’s attitude was one that of a stubborn teenager._

_He really dread to think what she would be like a couple of years down the line…_

**....**

**....**

“Human?” Papyrus sighed, still hanging on the stairwell and awaiting a response, “You must come out now! We are all waiting for you!” then he added for good measure, “I’ve made special lazignag-”

 _“lasagne.”_ his brother supplied from the other room.

“—Lasagne, just waiting for you!”

Listening closely for a reply just in case her voice was overwhelmed by the sound of running water… Papyrus couldn’t help but notice the excess water trickling out from under the door. Focused entirely on the door, he thought he heard a whine.

“Human?” he asked again, treading to the top of the stairs now and listening for a response. The sobs were getting louder now, so maybe she woke up from a nap and was feeling too sad to eat…

“Frisk…?” he knocked on the door; maybe he couldn’t hear her. This time, he actually heard her gurgle.

Frowning, he knocked again, “Are you alright?” Papyrus heard her sob again. “I’m… I’m gonna come in, okay??”

When the only reply he received was hysterical gasping and sobbing, Papyrus elbowed the door open, preparing himself for what he might find. A swoosh of water filtering through the door crack triggered a sense of dread creep up from the pit of his stomach.

Papyrus had seen a lot of things in his life, most of which were to do with his brother, but none were more disturbing than the sight of blood red water overflowing the brim of the bathtub.

The majority of the floorspace was coated with a mixture of blood and water, seeping out of the door and down the stairs.

Fear crippling him, every muscle in Papyrus’ body froze at the horrid sight before him, terror sucking the breath from his mouth.

“Oh my god…”

He took a step back and nearly fell down the stairs.

“S-Sans!?”

As soon as the word left his mouth he overheard the telling sound of chairs screeching downstairs, running footsteps heralding the imminent arrival of his brother and father.

Frisk was slouched in the overflowing bathtub, staring right at Papyrus with puffy red eyes. Fingers clawed the sides of the plastic, crying hysterically with a pair of blood-stained scissors grasped tightly in her left fist.

Before he knew it, Gaster shoved past him whilst Sans hovered from behind the door, eyelights pinpoint. There was blood still seeping out of her arms.

“oh, hell.”

He heard Gaster hiss under his breath as he approached her, “Alright, alright.” He grabbed Frisk from the tub and pulled her onto the floor, her clothes drenched and soiled red as she still aimlessly wailed. His own trousers were quickly becoming soaked as he remained on his knees with her. “Can one of you two turn off the water?”

It must have taken a moment for her anaemic mind to catch up as she suddenly jostled awake and struggled to yank away. Gaster shuffled himself into a cross-legged position, reaffirming his grip over her abdomen while she continued to howl, the running water suddenly coming to a stop.

With one arm still wrapped firmly around her waist, he tried to tug the scissors out of Frisk’s grasp, her strength still surprisingly strong for the situation she was in.

“Give me the scissors, child,” he murmured, trying once again to retrieve what could be a dangerous weapon. Instead, and to his surprise, the child suddenly spun around and pointed the edge of the scissors at her neck.

“D-Don’t touch me.”

“…”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m not touching you.”

“Don’t touch me.”

Gaster flicked his gaze over to his two sons, exchanging a _look._ Luckily, Sans subtly nodded and left the bathroom. Despite her anxiety about being touched, she didn’t seem to be aware of Gaster’s arms securing her still.

“Don’t touch me.” Frisk repeated, bringing the scissor edge closer to her throat, beginning to whimper once more, “Don’t touch me.”

Gaster could only purse his mouth into a thin line as he watched the child’s hands cautiously.

“I’m not touching you.” he could hear her haggard breathing, wanting oh so desperately to grab the weapon and fling it far away, but was rather worried she’d stab herself before being willing to do that. He glanced up to his other son, who was still frozen in the doorway. “Papyrus, can you get me some dressings for these wounds?”

Papyrus’ head jerked up at the mention of his name, taking a second to process his father’s request before nodding shakily. “O-Okay!!”

The room finally being left with only the scientist and the human, Gaster internally wondered how on earth he was going to get this child out of this room alive. Even if he could get the weapon out of her hands, there was still a lot of blood loss. She was in danger of going into cardiac arrest, yet he couldn’t do anything.

He didn’t know what to say.

“…”

Slowly, very slowly, he lightly pulled on the grip around her abdomen, testing the waters to see how she would react. Receiving no protest, he managed to slide her onto his lap, both arms still wrapped around her waist.

Good. Progress.

“I’m going to check your pulse,” he explained, waiting for some sort of negative reaction, “I am not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me.”

Right. They hit a wall there, then.

Where on earth was Sans?

“…”

“…W-Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do… do you keep… trying… to… save… me?” her idle confusion caused the hand clutching the scissors to lower.

“Because.”

“…Cause… what?” her breathing was growing shallower, having her so close granted him the ability to feel her chest rise and fall for himself.

“Because…” How do you answer a question like that?

“You… you just… do it… cos… you think… its right… but…” she wheezed, breaths rattling within her struggling lungs, “What… if… I don’t… want… to…?”

“…”

“That’s… that’s not… good… anymore…”

He remembered teleporting her back home from the empty riverside, the child practically begging him to let her die. And now she was doing it again. If Sans didn’t come back within the next five minutes, she was going to have her way.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that perhaps we want you alive?”

Frisk stiffened.

But didn’t respond.

He vaguely noticed Sans’ shadow pass the doorway, which meant he finally returned with the… _fix_. But he needed to get the scissors out of the child’s hands, lest she attacks someone with it.

“Can I have those scissors?” he asked calmly, yet ensuring he didn’t move, “I will not touch you, but I would like you to give them to me. If you prefer, you can drop them on the floor.”

Frisk arms seemed to twitch, before her grasp around the weapon grew tighter, “…No.”

“Can you tell me why?”

The child tensed up—she was very scared, hardly breathing at all. Sans knelt down behind her like a ghost, Frisk appearing nonethewiser to his presence.

Father and son shared a look, before Sans swiftly jabbed the drug into the back of her shoulder. The response was a silent, yet violent flinch. Realising she was about to be saved, the scissors were thrusted into the air, escaping both the skeleton’s frantic hands and shouts of ‘ _NO!’_ and jammed it into her neck.

“shit!” Sans jumped back, fear seeming to rise behind his eyes as the young skeleton took in the scene in front of him. “you’ve got to be freaking kidding me!”

Her eyes rolled into whites moments later, a content smile plastered on her face with the awareness that she finally got what she wanted.

**....**

**....**

“i don’t know what you’re thinking, but don’t do it.”

Having just finished yet another surgery to fix the excessive blood loss and damaged larynx, the three skeletons stood by the heavily sedated child’s side.

Gaster watched the unconscious figure with a cold gaze of curiosity.

Finally, he said, “I am at a loss with what else I should do.”

Papyrus of course, despite the situation, was as upbeat as ever. “We help her feel better, of course! She needs love and support from her family!”

“pap, there’s nothing else we can do.”

“Don’t give up, Sans!!” Papyrus gave him an encouraging clap on the back and forced the forlorn skeleton to face him, “Even if it takes months, or even years, we will find a way to make the human feel better! Even if it means devoting the rest of our natural lives to doing so! I know we can do it!”

Gaster’s hollow stare was eerily grave. “…Marvellous.”

This was a vicious circle.

They were not getting anywhere. No matter how hard they tried, Frisk always resorted to ending their own life, the miserable child an absolute shell of their former self.

There were good days, sure. But in the end… it always came back to this.

How do you stop it? How do you break the cycle and stop someone in so much concealed agony from doing this?

Three years ago she had such a determination to live that everyone was freed from a lifetime in the underground. Now there was only the determination to die.

“so what, we just leave it to happen again?” Sans challenged numbly, watching her vital signs as they continued to work against the child’s wishes.

Papyrus shrugged, “Unless you come up with a cure for depression, all we can do is be there for her.”

_A cure for depression…_

Recognition dawned upon the scientist’s face, his tired eyes widening with thought.

“don’t even think about it. it’s not possible.”

_Hmm. What about a cure for magic?_

“Until Papyrus laid it out this way, I did not think to try it. Our technology is vastly superior to humans.”

Sans growled, “ _monster_ technology, man. c’mon. just leave it.”

“Everything can be manipulated.”

“you can’t just whip up a cure for depression, that’s gonna take years.”

“I'm thinking a cure for magic. Did Papyrus not just say this, and that it did not matter so long as the child lived?”

Papyrus ran a hand over his face, “That’s… not what I meant, and you know it!” he sighed, joining his brother on his quest to stop their father’s plans before it even had a chance to begin. “I know you’re very good with science, but… this is difficult, even for you!”

“Perhaps you are underestimating me, Papyrus.”

“no, G, he has a point,” Sans appeared torn, “look… she’s just a kid. i know how you get, you get obsessed with something and you take things too far to fix it. that’s how you ended up a dozen feet down in the core. do you want that to happen again?”

Gaster winced at the distant memory, “The last time I checked I do not have an enormous void opening in a nine-hundred-foot hole at the bottom of my lab.”

“… touché.”

“But still,” Papyrus’ eyes were slightly creased, nervous, “It doesn’t feel right…”

Gaster tilted his head, “I appreciate your concern, both of you, but I have made my decision.”

Sans ground his jaw, “well you should at least check with the king. if word gets around you’re experimenting on a human child without telling anyone we’re all gonna be in deep shit.”

Well, that was a sound suggestion.

“Very well. We will pay a visit to the king.”

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

“No! Absolutely not!”

“Why not? Does your fear of science control you?”

“No, of course not! It’s completely unethical!”

“How so?”

“How _so?_ You’re asking to experiment on a vulnerable _child,_ Wingding.”

“She may agree to it.”

“She’s a minor, it doesn’t matter if she agrees or not! You would have to consult with her parent—oh.”

Gaster quirked an eyebrow.

Of course, it was easily forgotten that _he_ had legal responsibility over the child now.

Asgore sighed, slumping his face between his hands whilst saying “Think about what you’re doing, Dr Gaster. If these _experiments_ get out of control I will not hesitate to intervene at the first sign of trouble.”

“As you wish,” Gaster sighed, then tilted his head, “I assume I have your permission?”

The king seemed to be torn. “That depends. Well, how long are you doing this for, how are you going to look after her and what is the chances of success?”

“She will be in our house, every need attended to, and I will do it for as long as it takes to succeed.”

“…Alright,” Asgore muttered after a minute of deliberation, “You must be taking very good care of her. The living conditions of your previous subjects were questionable at best.”

“Excellent.”

“In fact, I will personally check on her myself next week.”

“… That isn’t necessary.”

“It is if you want my blessing,” Asgore sighed, “I do not want a repeat of last time.”

“That was years ago, your highness. And if I may, all subjects with the exception of one survived, and that was due to an underlying condition that I could not control.”

“It is not their survival I’m worried about, Gaster,” Asgore met him firm in the eye, “It is their quality of life. Yes, your previous experiments worked, but your subjects were miserable. This is a child we are talking about. I am worried what you might do if you become too invested in this project.”

“With all due respect, and as I have said previously, that was years ago. My experience from the void has changed the way I work now, and if I did not care about the child they would not be living with me. I will make sure they are tended to.”

Asgore sighed once more, his head falling into his hands as he pondered over this. “Very well. I know you have Frisk’s best interests at heart. But as I said previously, I am going to check on her myself next week. We don’t want her becoming upset now, do we?”

Gaster pursed his mouth, “Of course not.”

_As if she isn’t upset already._

“Alright then. I will see you next week. Good luck.”

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

Attempting to distance himself from his subject was going to be a difficult task. Somehow Gaster now had to see the child as an experiment and not a living breathing thing; looking after her— _it_ , for so long, caused him to _care._ But the damage was already done. He needed to _not care_ to be able to perform efficiently.

Now he had to work to undo it.

Striding over to his _subject_ on the work table, Gaster knew he had to be weary of its injuries lest he cause another bleed. His experiment was going to be very upset with him for now, but it will thank him later.

So when they woke up… it quickly became a problem.

“Wh… what’re you doing?” she—it slurred, eyes rolling around their head and failing to focus. Doing his best to ignore her, Gaster grabbed an arm and set it aside, strapping it up in restraints. He should’ve known the reaction that would occur as a result of this, but it was a surprise nonetheless.

“Wha’ the hell are…” they tugged, their droopy eyes becoming saucer plates as they found themselves unable to move that arm, “Stop.”

Alas, he ignored her, grabbing the opposite arm and repeating the action, ensuring the restraints were tight and secure lest she act out and try to escape… or kick, or scream, or try to kill her... _it_ self.

“Is... is this about earlier?” her eyes were big, brown and innocent, “I'm sorry, okay? I won’t do it again!”

The scientist had to stop himself from chuckling at that utterance. If only that were true.

But he owed the subject an explanation of what he was going to do, it deserves at least that.

“Through testing I hope to find a cure for your current predicament,” he explained, firmly pressing their head down, with much resistance, and fastening the forehead with a restraint, “Your situation being a human with magic makes you resistant to many drugs, so I will perform research to investigate. You will be cured of magic with time.” He clarified to the human writhing below him.

“What?! You can’t!” they tugged at the restraints, back arching as they found themselves unable to move, “You can’t! I don’t want this! Please!” they sagged, frantic eyes meeting his as they begged, “ _I’m scared!”_

Gaster blinked.

The child—the subject never admitted to such feelings. They must be in great distress… it was well known the human had traumatic memories associated with being strapped to a bed in hospital…

Was this really a good idea…?

His eyes narrowed. _Of course it is. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t._

Perhaps some benevolence wouldn’t go amiss, however.

Tightening another restraint around their writhing chest, he spoke calmly, “This is for your own good. You will not feel anything, I can promise you that.”

A flash of red passed through his subject’s eyes.

_Oh, heavens._

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The experiment wheezed, “Why? You’ll kill me?” it sneered, thrashing again but growing weaker.

_I need to subdue their magic before it emerges._

Retreating to his various unlabelled vials, he picked out a bright blue one, knowing what each and every one of these drugs did just by looking at them.

His experiment must have caught on; enraged eyes melted into dread, the sparks of red in their iris growing more desperate.

Comparatively, he quickened the procedure with haste, digging a syringe into the vial and pulling its contents up into the barrel. He only hoped he could get back in time before magic balls of fire started shooting around the room.

Returning to their side, and with much defiance from the subject, he stuck the needle into a vein and pressed down on the plunger.

“What’s the matter with you!?” it screamed, ramming their arms around as if to somehow jolt the needle out of their arm, “You’re supposed to be my dad now! You’re not! You sick _fuck!”_

Gaster tried his best to hide the nervous swallow, watching the red sparks die out from the human’s eyes before retracting his hand. “I’m doing this for your benefit.”

Perhaps there was a memory suppressant he could give her after all of this.

The defiant creature wasn’t having any of it. “ _SANS!”_ it screamed, giving up on reasoning with the scientist and calling out for the next best thing, “ _SAAANS!!!!”_ The sheer volume of their voice grating and hoarse against his ears.

“Calm down,” he murmured, the subject breathing so hard they might burst the chest restraint open. “You will be fine.”

“ _SANS!”_ the hollering continued, vital monitors now flashing from orange to red, oxygen stats were also plummeting…

_I need to avoid using sedatives if I can._

_I don’t want to give them anything that may interfere with the brain’s chemistry._

Having given up calling for help that wouldn’t come, the subject resorted back to pleading with the scientist, “ _Please_ let me go, I swear I’ve—I’ve learned my lesson I won’t do anything to myself anymore I swear! Please!”

“This is not a punishment,” he ground his jaw, guilt flooding through his system, raising his voice as the child mindlessly screeched again, “I am trying to help you!”

The subject wheezed, “ _THIS IS NOT HELPING!”_ they jerked at the restraints, before seemingly giving up and slumping back down. Despite not moving, their breaths were still sawing in and out, apparently necessary survival instincts took hold over their fear of imprisonment.

Gaster released a quiet exhale, before fetching an oxygen mask, fastening it over her face knowing it would make matters worse. But he _had_ to fix those poor vitals.

Surprisingly, the human stopped fighting, the monitors gradually slowly down into sinus rhythm. By the looks of it, they had just given up.

Which was odd.

But this also expressed the direness of the situation if their determination was almost non-existent.

Still, they had conceded, which was progress.

“Good,” he affirmed, checking the vitals once more before returning to his silver basket of equipment, “You may hate me now, but you will thank me later.”

The experiment snivelled, before shrugging, “I’m _never_ gonna forgive you for this.”

It would be a lie to say that those words didn’t hit him in the soul.

He _really_ needed to distance himself from this experiment. He was too close.

Stop feeling.

Stop getting emotional.

Just do the work.

He took a breath.

From his equipment, he retrieved a head covering of sticky electrodes and returned to the child’s side. Impassively, he cased the back of the child’s head with it, placing the electrodes on their temples, suddenly grateful he had the mind to immobilize the head; the device would be on the floor in seconds otherwise. Then, he connected the wires to an output monitor, turning the device on.

He observed the creature hold their breath, likely anticipating pain, but released shakily when nothing happened.

Retrieving his clipboard, Gaster began to note down the current information displayed on the creature’s brain activity.

While doing so, his experiment spoke.

“What…” it closed their eyes, pacing themselves, “What are you doing?”

“Monitoring your brain activity.”

The creature’s eyes widened. “What? Are you gonna make me brain dead?”

Gaster didn’t know whether to snort or feel offended by the remark. But it was full of sincerity, the creature actually wondered if he was going to put them in a vegetative state.

“No, I am simply recording what your brain is doing, so that I can refer back to it,” he pursed his mouth while continuing to write, “Believe it or not, I am not intending to hurt you.”

The creature shut their eyes again, forcing itself to take steady breaths, likely from an influx of anxiety. “Do you…” it shuddered, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Yes.”

“On a living thing?”

“Yes.”

There was surprise etched across the human’s face. “You mean… you’ve experimented on people before?”

Gaster narrowed his eyes, “They were willing subjects. You are the first who have not been so… eager.”

The human looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Did… they survive?”

“Hmm,” Gaster nonchalantly flipped a page over, “All but one.”

Even from looking at a sheet of paper he could hear the creature’s heartrate speeding up in the distance.

“But… what did… they die of? What about the people still alive are they… are they still themselves? Did you hurt them? Can they talk? Can they walk? Are they brained—”

“They are absolutely fine.” He clenched his teeth, glancing past the clipboard and to the chattering child, then sighed. “The way humans respond to fear is incredibly amusing.”

The rapidly beeping monitor began to slow down. “Oh…” then it continued talking, “But you admit that I’m not willing… so technically… y-you can’t…”

Gaster refused to meet her—their eye, scribbling down random words in his native language to avoid the dreaded _conscience,_ “Because you’re a child I have legal responsibility over decisions on your behalf,” he grit his teeth at the words he spoke, “You may not be willing to take part in this, but I don’t care.”

“So… I have no say in any of this?” their voice was beginning to break again, “But that’s not fair! You say you’re doing it _for_ me, but I don’t want to! You just wanted something to experiment on!”

He was spiralling his pen on a loop to the point where he was only drawing random shapes. “Moral ethics are complicated. I believe what I am doing is right, and that is good enough for me.”

_… The more it talks, the more invested I become in their wellbeing. Such is making me emotionally compromised._

Before the creature had a chance to reply, he uttered, “Now, stop talking. Let me work.”

“Or what, huh?” the experiment spat, jostling on the restraints again, “What you gonna do? You can’t hurt me, you need me intact.”

“Correct. But I will mute you if needed.”

“Mute me?” the human laughed, then paused. “… How, exactly?”

Gaster didn’t look up, “Keep talking and you will find out.”

Apparently the threat was enough to shut it up. There was no reply.

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

“I don’t understand…” Papyrus sat down on the sofa, waiting for his older brother to join before continuing. “You mean… Frisk isn’t coming home?”

Sans shrugged apathetically, “not for a while. dad’s dealing with her.”

“What do you mean?” Papyrus seemed nervous, “Has she hurt herself again??”

“well… no, but pops wants to do some _research_ , so they’re doing it together.”

Papyrus’ eyes narrowed. “You don’t mean…”

Sans didn’t reply.

_Oh no._

“Oh, brother! He's really going ahead with it!? I really thought he wouldn’t be doing _that_ again! I thought he got better!”

His older brother shrugged, a vacant expression on his face as he slouched down the couch further. “he’s really worked up about it. not being able to fix it. so he’s gone back to his roots. and i don’t think he’ll stop until he’s got a cure.”

“A cure for what exactly?” Papyrus appeared hesitant.

“for magic, i suppose. suppression isn’t enough, so the next step is getting rid of it entirely, which has never been done before.”

“But shouldn’t she learn to live with it? Accept that it is part of her?”

“that’s what you’d think. but pops got impatient. and desperate. and the kid ain’t getting any better. as long as she’s not in any danger i’m not gonna stop him, as much as it kinda scares me.”

“Why won’t you stop him, Sans!! She is a child! She must be very scared!”

“trust me, i’m keeping an eye on him. honestly, he’s gotten so close to her it looks as if he can’t even get any work done, a guilty conscience I guess, which is a good thing.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, anxious, “believe me, if it looks like he’s getting too emotionally distant and starts doing questionable things, i’ll rip that lab apart so much he’ll need to build a new one from scratch across the other side of town, far far away from me.”

Papyrus blinked. “Okay. Well... I suppose she’s safe, then.”

As long as she came out the other side of this like herself again, happy, determined to live and by Papyrus’ side assisting with cooking spaghetti, he supposed it would be ok…

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

As the days dragged on, Frisk noticed the scientist getting increasingly more withdrawn, separating his emotions from his work with more and more success. The words he spoke were impassive, cold, detached, as if driving conversation from a robot.

And as the threats from him became more real, Frisk learned to submit and do as he said. In the end she remained silent, complicit, following commands despite the horrible gnawing anxiety in her stomach. She was terrified. Terrified of him, and terrified of what he might do at any second. But she had to trust him when he promised that in the end, he wouldn’t hurt her.

The bigger question was… how long was she staying here for? It had been what she guessed was four days now, and the man had _not_ let her free of those restraints for even a second. She had been trussed up on the table like a starfish for nearly a week with no signs of letting up.

And she was entirely looked after by tubes. A feeding tube inserted into her stomach, a canula for the restroom, and no matter how much she implored to him that she would be good, the man _refused_ to let her go.

As he grew more distant and emotionless whilst working on her, she eventually decided it was no use trying to bargain with him anymore. It was like being held hostage, and she had yet to see any signs of Sans.

Why hadn’t he rescued her yet?

She just hoped that there would be an end to all of this soon, and the man would actually come up with the discovery he was looking for. The longer she was here, the meaner the scientist was getting.

And she really didn’t want to be here long enough to piss him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this shift onto darker tones is okay. I'm looking forward to writing a darker yet darker Gaster >:)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster loses his mind trying to find a cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... this is dark. It was a hard chapter for me to write and probably the darkest chapter I've ever written. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing. I wanted to investigate Gaster's psych more, and Sans' reaction to both him and Frisk, I hope I wrote it well. :)

_As he grew more distant and emotionless whilst working on her, she eventually decided it was no use trying to bargain with him anymore. It was like being held hostage._

_She just hoped that there would be an end to all of this soon, and the man would actually come up with the discovery he was looking for. The longer she was here, the meaner the scientist was getting._

_And she really didn’t want to be here long enough to piss him off._

**......**

**......**

Gaster was pacing in circles.

“you sure everything’s ok down there? how’s the kid? you haven’t slept for days man, c’mon get some rest…”

“I could try genome editing but it has not yet been tested in humans…” he paced another seven circles before continuing, “As far as I can tell, the occipital lobe is controlling the use of magic, I can only assume humans are born with it, but the area is not activated until childhood…”

Sans tried to step closer, “c’mon, man, sit down—"

“But there is no way to tell what could happen if it’s completely disabled… I assume it’s connection to the eyes changing colour is indivisible…”

“gaster. sit down.”

“Disabling that part of my brain may also affect vision, or vice versa… unless…”

Sans grabbed the crook of his father’s arm, leading him towards the couch and forcing him to sit. The man seemed to be nonethewiser, lost in his own world of scientific study.

“Although when you consider the child’s hand movements and ability to relay information to the brain on the summoning of magic, it is entirely possible the spinal cord is involved, perhaps if I can cut off the communication for magic between the cord and the brain then the request would be lost and never surface.”

“gaster.” Sans put a hand on his knee, trying to grab his attention, “dad. stop. this is going too far. i was worried this would happen and, heh, looks like I was right."

Gaster didn’t even blink, staring into nothingness as he mulled over his findings, “Sans, if I can isolate and separate the communication of the body’s request for magic then magic would cease to function entirely,” he seemed slightly more excited now, “I need to do more tests.”

He stood up to leave, “wait, hold on a minute!” Sans reached after him, “jeez, man, can’t you do this tomorrow?”

“No, I cannot waste more time,” he entered the elevator, the overhead ceiling light making the purple bags under his eyes even more prominent, “Please inform Papyrus that I will have to reschedule our trip.”

“yeah, yeah,” Sans sighed, “i’m sure he’ll understand.”

_as always._

_god damn it._

**......**

**......**

When the scientist came storming into the room, Frisk wasn’t sure whether she was in trouble or if the man had found something fascinating enough to warrant a near-sprinting gait.

He seemed to stride around the room as if searching for something, before ultimately ending up back by her table-side again, a clipboard and pen and an astute gaze that saw nothing but fascination for his subject at this point. At least he’d left Frisk sitting slightly inclined upright, so that she wasn’t staring at the ceiling anymore. It seemed to be a pact for her silence.

Gaster stood idly still, beginning to note down something while asking, “When you first call upon your magic, what are the internal sensations?”

Frisk blinked.

She was allowed to _talk?_

That was new.

But just to make sure…

“Um…” she breathed, voice dry and cracking from disuse, “I can talk?”

There was a slight nod, the man not releasing eye-contact from the paper.

“Um…” Frisk repeated, pondering over the question for a moment, then tried to crack a joke, “I dunno… kind of like riding a bike but not really…” but the man didn’t seem to care.

“Even the slightest details may help.”

“I guess… my head sorta goes warm and fuzzy for a second, I know that my eyes go red; it’s the colour of my magic, I know that, um…” Frisk paused as she thought some more, watching the scientist twirl the pen between his fingers before continuing to write. “My hands tingled at first but now I’ve just got used to it, don’t feel that at all now… uhh…”

Gaster finished up his notes, “Interesting.” Then placed the pad down on the table, sauntering off behind her and out of sight.

_What’s he found now…?_

She heard a heavy object squeaking as wheels were rolled around the room, before she felt the table recline flat again.

_Damn it. Not the stupid ceiling. I hate feeling vulnerable._

“I believe there is a connection to your vision and magic, so I have a hypothesis I would like to try out.”

She swallowed. Usually his _hypothesis’_ involved _doing_ things. Why couldn’t he just watch like a normal person? Or even, not keep someone locked up in their basement like a normal person? Because let’s face it, this was a glorified basement, and she was a prisoner.

At least that’s what she told herself.

In anticipation of the unknown, her heart was beginning to thrum faster now, his proximity to her causing alarm bells in her head screaming _danger, get away._ Evidently she was right; his hand reached across her face and pulled over an overhead light that seared directly above her left eye… she knew she was in trouble.

“Is it too late to say no?” she joked; She’d said no from the start yet here they were.

“Don’t speak, you are interrupting my flow of thought,” he murmured, Frisk wincing at the sound of elastic snapping, probably over his hands.

Then, the scientist reached over her, a big palm-sized metal _thing_ in his hand. With his free hand, he pulled back her eyelid, allowing the contraption to fit snugly and force her eye open. Then the man reached across again, returning with a large object that rumbled as it was towed up behind her. A box-like extension was pulled down, inches away from her eyeball. It was just then she realised it was a telescope of some sort, and instantly the alarm already ringing in her head began to sound like church bells.

Her lungs frozen in the grips of fear, she could only remain silent and clench her fists through the tension, hoping he’d find whatever he was looking for and that he’d find it quick.

“I am going to track your reaction to the onset of magic. It will be quite an extensive amount, as I want to be able to see clearly, visually, what’s going on.”

Frisk wasn’t sure whether that was an invitation to agree, but she stayed silent. The sound of metal rattling in a tray rocketed her rapidly beating heart up more, before she vaguely saw, and felt, the silhouette of something vaguely touching her iris.

She bit her cheek to stop herself from flinching, the instruments obscuring her vision. She heavily exhaled through her nose instead, forcing herself to stay calm against short sharp breaths desperate to hyperventilate.

_Just do nothing. Think of something else. Anything else._

Her mind wandered to Sans, then to Papyrus, then Undyne, then _fish,_ then Alphys, Mettaton, then Toriel and Asgore and anything to desperately take her away from the immediate threat—

Something just tugged at her wrist. Seconds later, the tug was followed by warmth, running up her arm and the crook of her elbow.

“I have administered the medication that will trigger your magic momentarily, just sit still and do nothing. That is all I’m asking.”

Well, was that supposed to be a joke? She was currently flat on her back, strapped down with an eye clamped open, the man directly beside her staring into the window of her soul as if he were dissecting a frog. She didn’t exactly have it in her to _move._

The warmth washed over her, just like she was expecting. But it was coming on _more,_ faster and faster, hotter and hotter, which wasn’t normal and probably had something to do with the fact he gave her _a lot_ of it. The instruments probing her eye returned, two of them now simultaneously pressing against her retina.

She heard the man hum to himself, before noting, “Both eyes are watering, is this a common occurrence when summoning magic?”

 _No, you bastard, I’m crying, and I can’t help it!_ The words were lost in her throat, her lips instead imparting a whimper.

“Ah. I see.” She heard him say, “Don’t cry, this will only take a minute… and you are disrupting the experiment.”

She bit her lip, her head growing warmer as she tried _so_ hard not to release another tear. Instead, she took several breaths to calm down, and luckily the man seemed to wait until she did. Whether it was out of concealed sympathy or as to not ruin the procedure, she wouldn’t know. Probably the latter.

After about half a minute, the tools reappeared, continuing where they left off. They poked and prodded, invading her line of sight and searching for who knows what.

“Interesting, it’s just as I thought,” he eventually mumbled to himself, the instruments thankfully disappearing. “Your brain is producing magic cells directly onto your eye, which makes them turn the colour of your soul trait; red. I can only assume that the same is happening throughout your body… or perhaps, the spinal cord…”

_Great. You were right. Now please stop…_

“I am now going to collect a sample.”

_Fuck._

She heard what she could only assume was a metal tray rustling, clattering and clanking as he searched for something else.

“Apologies for this, Papyrus is having dinner with Sans tonight and I would rather not have him hear you down here.” Something hard and bitter was stuffed into her mouth, immediately causing her to start thrashing, eyes huge and frantic, searching the bright darkness for what was going to happen.

“This may feel unpleasant, but it will only take a second.”

A low humming sound began from behind and out of sight, growing louder as it moved closer, before an instrument connected with her retina.

She _screamed_ into whatever was in her mouth, thrashing and kicking and bucking against the restraints with energy she didn’t know she still had. It burned _so bad,_ he was definitely incinerating her eye!

 _You sick fuck!_ She wanted to screech, but instead could only scream muffled protests around the mouth piece, violently and frantically exhaling through her nose, chest rapidly rising and falling, only able to lay still and take it whilst the torment continued.

But just like he said, it only lasted for ten seconds before it was removed, and as such so did the thing in her mouth, along with the hold on her eye – and thank the _stars_ she could still see out of it. He must have really lost his mind—he never caused harm to her before, and definitely never muffled her pain until now.

She coughed, spluttering, blinking and breathing so rabidly were lungs felt as if they had been filled with water. It took a moment for her mind to piece together it was a panic attack. The first one in a long, long time. “Please no—no—no—no more,” she wheezed, “Please-please- _please—"_

Continuing to heave, she spluttered, coughing, retching, quite sure that she was going to throw up. The telescope-contraption above her head was swiftly pulled away, revealing Gaster’s— _concerned?—_ expression above her.

“Did it hurt that much?”

Maybe breaking the promise that he wouldn’t hurt her was enough to upset him. But truth be told it didn’t hurt _that_ much, it was the panic that was, and there’s no way to tell him that.

She continued to hyperventilate, squeezing her now dry eyes shut, wanting so desperately to curl up in a ball and run away.  
The man’s anxious expression never shifted, two fingers pressing firmly against her throat before he came to the same conclusion himself.

“Hmm. Panic attack?”

She did her best to nod. The scientist’s cold tone did nothing to hide the guilt from his face.

“I see.”

_You see?! Do something!_

“In normal circumstances I would sedate you, but…” he paused, eying his clipboard, then the flashing red vitals, then Frisk’s face again, before sighing. “I suppose a light sedative wouldn't hurt.”

Maybe he was trying to convince himself that, and there really was some _humanity_ left in him, because as soon as the cold feeling in her arm hit, she was out like a light.

**......**

**......**

**......**

**......**

_”…’od morning, are you awake?”_

_“Still very tranquilized, I see.”_

_“Today, I am going to attempt to infuse your body with Albutezaprine, a drug that will be a base for a procedure later. The reason for which is none of your concern. I will insert a tube into your trachea, and feed the drug to you through your abdomen. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, you will not remember anything.”_

_She had no idea what any of those words meant. She wanted to go back to sleep. She groaned._

_“Perhaps it is for my records.” a short pause. Fingers gently placed themselves at her jaw line. “Can you understand me?”_

_“Nnnnggg…”_

_“Good. Due to your diminished reflexes, you will require assistance. Open.”_

_“Nggh… aahhhhh….”_

_“Excellent. Now just relax.”_

_Something forced its way into her mouth, creating an opening. Shortly thereafter, something brushed through the gap, past her tongue, then down the back of her throat. It kept travelling down her neck, until it stopped._

_She coughed._

_“Relax. If you feel the need to swallow, please do so.”_

_She did so._

_“I am now administering the medication. If you wish, you may now go back to sleep. Thank you.”_

_“Nnhhh…”_

_She let go._

_“… I’m sorry.”_

**......**

**......**

_“…’proximately three hours ago, I inserted a flexible tube into the subject’s abdominal wall. Appears to be responding to the drug quite positively. …’been sedated and will remain that way. Will soon begin the final procedure to eliminate interaction with magic. I believe I need to…”_

**......**

**......**

_“…hell is wrong with you? you’ve had her trapped down there like a fucking animal!”_

_“It was for the best. I needed to restrict movement to avoid any foreseeable reactions. It is much simpler and faster to have immediate and entire access.”_

_“god, g, not even your old experiments were this fucked up, at least they had free will. you’ve strapped a child to a table and experimented on them against their will for a week.”_

_“I have however, come to a solution. I now know how to remove magic entirely from a human being. A feat that would not have been achieved for possibly weeks, months, or not at all had I let them free.”_

_“and in return you’ve likely traumatised the kid. congratulations, you’re the world’s worst dad.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“she’s gonna want to go to Asgore now, you know that right? you’ve lost your foster rights over her today.”_

_“I thought about that. But what she wants doesn’t matter. She needs to stay here or else she will never be cured, and will likely attempt to harm herself again.”_

_“if she stays here with us she’s likely so fucking scared of you she’ll try to kill herself again. you’ve made everything ten times worse because you got curious.”_

_“A possibility, indeed. But the root reason of her suicidal intentions will be alleviated.”_

_“she’s never gonna forgive you, you know. she’ll forgive a murderous flower demon, she’ll forgive her mom for messing up and the king for trying to kill her. but this? you made her worse nightmare come true and then some.”_

_“I am not concerned with whether she excuses me or not. I succeeded with my research and that was ultimately what I was after.”_

_“that’s not—oh, hell, she’s waking up.”_

Oh, it wasn’t a dream?

“heya bud. how’s it going?”

Well, that was a trick question. She wasn’t allowed to talk.

She nearly jumped when a hand grasped hers. “hey.”

Frisk opened her eyes. It was Sans. And she wasn’t in the lab anymore. It looked like her bedroom.

She tilted her head questionably, the skeleton trying to read her expression.

“uhh…”

“…Can I talk?” perhaps the scientist was gone now…

Sans blinked, bewildered at the odd question, “…yeah?”

“Oh.” Her voice was rough, hoarse no doubt from screaming, and her friend seemed to notice—he frowned. “I’m sorry...”

“for what, kid?” his eyes were hard with anger, occasionally flicking over to something behind her, “it's my fault for not realising how bad things were.”

“I’m... I don’t know...” she found herself able to move her limbs, no longer restrained to a table. Sighing with relief, Frisk rubbed her itchy eye, remembering what happened and tensing up.

Sans’ entire attention had turned towards it. “why is her eye red?”

“I had it open with a speculum and did some testing. Swelling is normal.”

_Oh God, he’s still here?_

“right,” Sans spat bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief and squeezing her hand. “it's alright now."

Frisk spun around in bed, noting the scientist standing by the door with an unreadable expression on his face.

“ _Oh god_ ,” she choked and frenziedly shuffled up the bed, hysterically crying whilst cowering away from the man that created so much pain, but her escape was blocked by a wall, “Why is he here? I’m—” she gasped, “I’m sorry for talking, I’ll stop talking, I swear—I’m—I’m talking right now but I won’t later or soon or now if you don’t hurt me—”

“hey,” Frisk jerked away when a hand touched her knee, “hey, it’s alright. he’s not gonna hurt you, no-one is,” the hand attempted to touch her shoulder. This time, recognising Sans, she didn’t back away. “i’m here. s’long as i’m here, nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

Frisk was about to search for and seek comfort from her kind friend, but spotted the scientist by the door advancing towards them. She continued violently floundering on the bed, “No, no no no no,” not trusting the sudden stop in advancement and tense expression from the man.

_“get out.”_ Sans hissed bitterly under his breath to his father.

Frisk watched the scientist take several steps back, allowing Sans to embrace her as he hushed, “it’s ok. you’re fine.”

She knew she was trembling in her friend’s grasp and couldn’t help but feel bad about it. Why can’t she hug him when he’s trying to be nice?

“so uh…” Sans began, waiting for his father to finally leave their sight before continuing, “your magic is gone now.”

Oh.

“…Really?” she whispered, unmoving in his embrace, “But… now I can’t defend myself anymore…”

When her disappointment was met with a beat of silence, Frisk began to think she had said a bad thing…

“bud…” she heard him sigh, exasperated, “you’re telling me you wanted to _keep_ your magic now?”

She blinked.

Maybe?

“I dunno… but it’s gone now so I guess that’s good…” It’s what she wanted all along, right?

“yeah,” Sans squeezed her hand again, “i mean, it’s done now. no going back.”

“Yeah…”

She didn’t really get a moment to process the idea before her friend hit her with intimate questions, “listen, uh… you feel comfortable talking about what happened?”

“Umm…” Not really… but it was Sans, so… “A little bit?”

“ok, just a little bit,” Sans pulled himself away from her, forcing her to look at him as he tried to offer a reassuring smile, “just, i don’t really know what went on. i came in the room after a kinda gut feeling and found you, um…”

“Yeah, uh,” Frisk tried not to nervously laugh, “I’ve been bound to a table for a week, I don’t think I can walk.”

“yeah, about that,” Sans’ eyes were tight with worry, “you were asleep when i found you, and um, did he say anything about determination?”

She frowned, “…No? Not that I remember? Maybe he didn’t and I forgot?”

“oh,” he seemed nervous, “i think he was collecting it.”

She deadpanned. “What.”

“yeah, i dunno,” he shrugged, shaking his head, “or maybe he was trying to see if you’d still react to it. i have no idea what he was doing. but when i walked in… uh… you weren’t in very good shape.”

A knot was forming in Frisk’s belly. “I… he did put me to sleep at some point. I thought it was because the thing he did to my eye made me panic a lot.”

“ok,” Sans’ eyes narrowed, “how much do you know?”

Frisk tensed, exhaling shakily, “…Not much.”

“right. he must’ve done something else while you were asleep and figured it out. by the time i got to you he’d already found a cure. you have any idea how long you were asleep for?”

She shook her head, tension rising in her stomach as thoughts swirled in her head, “Um… was he still experimenting? When you walked in?”

Something dark flashed in the skeleton’s eyes. “yeah.”

“Okay,” she cleared her throat, “What was he doing?”

“it’s kinda a disturbing thought. you sure you wanna know?”

She nodded, “I want to know everything he did to me.”

Sans seemed hesitant, but continued, “well. like i said, you were asleep. there was a tube running from your soul to a machine, i dunno what it was doing but i assumed he was collecting determination. and, um, there was something going down your throat, i don’t know what it was but your mouth was propped open. and, uh, this is kinda fucked up, but, i think he was doing, uh,”

“Spit it out, Sans…”

“i think he was operating.”

“…On?”

“… your spine.”

She nearly gagged. “W-What… the…” she swallowed, “the fuck…?”

“sorry.”

“No, I asked you to say it, it’s ok,” she rubbed her eyes, shellshocked, “You… you walked in and saw it?”

“… yeah.” he seemed a little sick himself.

“So…” she shuddered, sick to her stomach, “He put me to sleep so that he could do those things to me?”

“yeah, um,” he swallowed, “there were tubes and wires everywhere. guess he went nuts trying to figure out a cure. he knew the cause but didn’t know how to fix it.”

“But… why my back?”

“well,” Sans pursed his mouth, “he mentioned to me earlier that severing the body’s communication with magic might work. something about your vision- i guess that explains your eye, and the spinal cord. guess he found the source ‘cos you’re free of it now.”

Frisk ran a hand over her face, releasing a shuddery exhale. She knew the man was practically a well-hidden mad scientist, but didn’t know he was _this_ mad.

He somehow managed to defy the laws of biology, science, and everything in between… and completely cut off the body’s ability to communicate with magic. That must have been like working to specifically cut off the nerve that stops you from moving your pinkie toe.

It was admirable, sure. But it was terrifying. And completely immoral. Frisk didn’t know how to feel, knowing that someone she had grown to trust and accept as a foster father, could suddenly turn around and use that child as a guinea pig.

“he was kinda like this years ago,” Sans began, throwing his face into his hands. He released a heavy sigh, before bringing himself to continue.

“he’s obviously the greatest scientist the underground has ever had. but he got obsessed with experiments, with anything science related. and i mean anything. chemicals, biology, physics, all of it, once he had an idea that was it... and then he fell into his creation.”

Frisk blinked. She heard this story.

“but came back again, thanks to you. i really thought the experience changed him, but… he got much worse. honestly, it was like watching someone die. might as well call them psychotic breaks. but he got better during the past few years on the surface.”

He grit his teeth at the memories, “i guess he couldn’t help himself. fucking determination. he’s been messing with it for so long i’m sure he somehow produces it from sheer will alone.”

Frisk snorted despite herself. “I can see why you were so protective of me when I came to live with you… you knew what he could do…”

“yeah. i was hoping he’d, uh, not go that far again. but damn it, if i didn’t show up, i wonder how far he would have gone.”

The thought didn’t bear thinking about.

Frisk wilted, her expression melting into sobs, “ _Gosh, it was awful!”_ she cried, sobbing into his hoodie, a hand slowly wrapping around her as he pulled her closer. “He was so scary! And he kept getting meaner and meaner, and it was like he didn’t even know me!”

“shh…”

“And he did that thing to my eye!” she blinked, remembering the nightmare, “And it hurt so much, and I was screaming, and you didn’t hear me! No-one heard me!”

“i’m so sorry…”

“And I couldn’t move and he wouldn’t let me talk and it was so so so much worse than—than that time, when, when I went to the hospital? You remember I said that?”

“yeah bud, i do.”

“At least they tried to be nice, but he was really mean and kept doing things to me and I didn’t know what it was and it really hurt!”

“i’m so so sorry, kid. i promise i won’t let this ever happen again. believe me.” he tensed up, his voice growing dark, “he will never hurt anyone ever again.”

Frisk snivelled, “I hated being at his mercy. I hated being vulnerable and I hated feeling like his guinea pig,” she sharply inhaled at the memory, “I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t go even to the toilet, I couldn’t speak, there were tubes doing it all for me. I was so so so so scared!”

Sans sighed, controlling the urge to cry himself, “i know, bud. i know. i’m so sorry.”

Frisk sniffed, taking a long shuddery breath, before nuzzling into her friend’s hoodie and closing her eyes.

“well, uh,” Sans seemed pensive, “how about you get some real sleep?” he patted the mattress, “in your own bed. i’ll be close by if you need me, i promise. just holler, okay?”

Frisk discreetly wiped another stray tear before it had a chance to roll down her cheek and nodded, “Okay…”

“you need me to stay?”

“No! No, it’s ok,” Frisk chuckled nervously, _yes I do._ “It’s ok, as long… as long as you make sure he doesn’t come near me.”

He smiled and nodded, “i’ll make sure of it, promise.”

In return, Frisk mutely nodded back, allowing the skeleton to gently lay her down on the bed. The fact she was laying on a soft mattress with blankets and pillows instead of a hard table was like Christmas come early.

**....**

**....**

**....**

Sans pressed his back against the living room wall, shutting his eyes and forcing himself to take a breath.

_holy **shit.**_

He was going to tear that man apart. Rip his skull open, smash the bones to smithereens up the wall. Absolute psychotic bastard. Taking a vulnerable child, with suicidal intentions no less, and locking them in his lab for testing.

There must be something wrong his father's skull if he thought all of this was ok. With no guilt, no remorse, no conscience. All he saw was his experiments and his work and nothing else… he should have known.

Striding out the room and down the hallway, he made sure to note that the man was going to live his last few moments in agony, whether it was his father or not.

“where are you, you bastard,” he uttered, storming into the kitchen, “i’m gonna fucking kill you. get over—”

His father was there. Slouched against the wall. A syringe in hand that was an unsettling shade of green.

And he was _shaking._

_oh god._

“uh,” he approached cautiously, mindset utterly backtracked into the opposite, “what are you doing?”

Gaster only seemed to slouch further down the wall. “I cannot… fathom…”

“ok, give me that,” he reached a hand out towards him wriggling his fingers expectantly. His father didn’t move. Just seemed to stare at the syringe in question and his son.

“I…” he blinked, an oddly vacant expression upon his face as he spoke, “What is wrong with me?”

“i dunno, but i have some idea now. give that to me.”

Once again his father didn’t move.

“it’s not worth it, c’mon. give it here, please.”

“You were not there, Sans.”

“i know,” he stopped in front of him, watching his expression and waiting for it to change.

“Four days in a row… screaming.”

“i know.”

“In the end… I could only put her to sleep.”

“i know.”

“And even then… it was like… an urge… to finish… what I started…”

“i know, just,” he pursed his mouth, “just give that to me, ok?”

“I am not… I cannot understand…”

Sans knelt in front of him, all anger suddenly put on the backburner for the time being. “you cured her. you did it.”

“At what cost?”

“something we’ll work on.”

“It is not just. I need to do the same in return to my own person.”

“no you don’t.”

“To make it… right…”

“you know what i think?” Sans clenched his jaw, taking a breath before saying, “i think the kid was very ill, and you were having a nervous breakdown, and i did fuck all to help either of you.”

“A nervous breakdown?”

“yeah.”

“How so?”

“you’re having one right now. look at you.”

Gaster visibly swallowed.

“a few days ago when you were all eccentric pacing in circles about your theories, those were the warning signs. it escalated. badly. and i fucking ignored it.”

“It’s not your fault. This is of my own doing.”

Gaster very slowly curled his fingers into fists around the green vial, averting his gaze. Weakness was not something he ever wished to show towards anyone, let alone have it witnessed by his own son.

“give that to me, c’mon,” he gestured at the vial in his hands, “there’s no use doing this. what’s done is done.”

“Precisely.”

“i need you here man, don’t do something stupid like this.”

“That wasn’t what I heard five minutes ago.”

Sans released a shaky breath, “that was before i realised what was happening to you,” he reached out to the man, taking his wrist with one hand and the vial with the other. Throwing it aside, he ensured it smashed onto the floor and was in no danger of being consumed, before turning back to his father.

“i’m the worst son ever and i’m sorry. but this isn’t the way. you just have a really weird way of acting like a lunatic when you’re having meltdowns.”

“Perhaps.”

“is that a perhaps to you being a lunatic or to me being the worst son ever?” Sans smirked despite himself.

“Yes.” there was a hint of spirit in the man’s eyes. Sans sighed with supressed relief.

“ok.” he breathed, “ok, listen to me. you did it. the kid doesn’t have magic anymore. let’s just… i’ll call papy—”

“I do not want Papyrus to know about this.”

Sans watched him for a moment, but ultimately nodded. “yeah…”

_he’s the innocent one._

“ok. let’s just go sit down in the living room. relax a bit, ok? the kid is asleep, papy is out training, it’s all ok. just us.”

“Hmm,” Gaster narrowed his brows, very slightly tilting his head, “That sounds acceptable.”

“good,” Sans breathed, shutting his eyes with relief, “good. ok, let’s get up, c’mon.”

As they walked across the hallway to find the living room, Sans spotted Frisk perched at the top of the stairwell, absolutely perplexed.

_oh, jeez..._


End file.
